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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28020366">Rewritten</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elkseqa/pseuds/Elkseqa'>Elkseqa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels are Dicks (Supernatural), Angst, Apocalypse, Awkward Flirting, Bad Parent John Winchester, Canon Rewrite, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Civil War in Heaven (Supernatural), DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Dreamsharing, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Hell Trauma, John's Journal, M/M, Mutual Pining, Naomi Being an Asshole (Supernatural), POV Castiel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester Detoxing From Demon Blood, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 11:48:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,984</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28020366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elkseqa/pseuds/Elkseqa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which an angel of the Lord falls in love with a man and learns the true meaning of family. And in the process throws God's plan dramatically off-course.</p><p>A rewrite of seasons 4 and 5 where Dean and Castiel realize they are in love much earlier.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. In The Beginning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, like everyone, I hated the finale.</p><p>Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your point of view), I stopped watching Supernatural after season 11, and I had absolutely zero desire to suffer through the last four seasons just to write a fix-it fanfic for the finale. But because my urge to ship Destiel was too strong after the confession scene brought this show back to the forefront of my mind after four years, I had to write something. So after dragging the gremlin friend back into this hellscape of an obsession, I decided to think back to what might have happened if Cas and Dean realized they were in love much, much earlier.</p><p>This is the result. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One month. Ten years in Hell time.</p><p>Not even the blink of an eye for Castiel, an angel. A being who witnessed the birth of creation. Who crafted constellations across the universe and watched them each burn out in their own time. Who saw the rise and fall of countless civilizations, great and small, across the globe.</p><p>That's how long it took. Too long.</p><p>All things considered, he thought he'd made excellent time, taking off as soon as he was told and making quick work of the thousands of demons he left scorched in his wake. It had been easy, just carrying out his orders like any other day, easier than breathing, even, since angels didn't need to breathe. Still, it was too long.</p><p>He could see the soul before him now. Curious things, human souls. They were so powerful, so bright for such small, insignificant creatures. Containing such a breadth of feeling and thought and experience in spite of the inconsequential time they spent living. And each was remarkably unique, truly a masterwork of craftsmanship from his Father.</p><p>This soul was not only unique; it was special. Righteous. At just a glance, one might not be able to tell, pockmarked as it was by the many flaws and vices that plagued humanity, but Castiel could see beyond all of that in an instant and know that above everything, this soul was beautiful and unmistakably <em>good</em>. And it did not belong here.</p><p>For four months, forty years, the soul had been abandoned to rot here, and it had held on valiantly. But in the end, it had broken, as all souls do when subjected to unceasing and unspeakable torture, and that break had echoed throughout Hell until at last reaching Heaven's ears. This had been the Plan, of course, God's Plan, but Castiel still couldn't help but grimace at the twisted, blackened piece of the soul, a scar that even he couldn't heal with all of the powers of Heaven at his disposal. He had taken too long. No more.</p><p>He took the soul in hand, which left its own searing mark where it came into contact with his Grace, and proclaimed, "Dean Winchester is saved!"</p><p>Well, he didn't say those words exactly. The actual phrase was in Enochian. And he didn't so much say it as broadcast it over a celestial wavelength.</p><p>But at last, the soul was safe, and he was able to fly it out of Hell with zero resistance. Probably because any resistance was already dead.</p><p>The next order of business was a body. Preferably, he would have dropped the soul into its original receptacle, dusting his hands off after a job well done, so to speak. But hunters, of which Dean Winchester had been one, had this habit of salting and burning their bodies after death. Practical in their line of work, but it served as a mild irritant in Castiel's situation.</p><p>Because this soul could not be placed into just any body. It needed <em>the</em> body. A vessel that was the very embodiment of the soul it contained, perfectly reflective of the greatness it would go on to possess. Otherwise, his whole mission would have been for naught.</p><p>Thankfully, he found that Dean's body somehow still remained, or at least, what was left of it. The hellhounds had not been kind to him. Castiel scooped up the remaining scraps of flesh and bone that Dean's brother had left in the remote, unmarked grave and paired them with his soul, and then he began crafting. He knew, just by glimpses from his soul of what the man had been, the exact proportions to scale his figure, the precise number of hairs to be placed upon the head, and the perfect shade of green to paint in the facets of his irises. The specifications were clear down to the last atom, but he took the liberty of polishing away the numerous scars that used to mar nearly every inch of him. The man had suffered enough.</p><p>Only one scar remained that he could not erase. An inflamed handprint on his shoulder from where Castiel's Grace had burned him to his core. Vessels sometimes had a funny way of reflecting marks made to the soul. It would fade with time, thankfully.</p><p>He was no creator like his Father, not even considered an artist by any standard, but he couldn't help but be a little proud of himself as Dean Winchester took his first struggling breaths after four months. Of course, a miracle of that magnitude, creating matter where before there had been nothing, was bound to have drastic effects on the physical plane. In this case, that first breath created a shockwave that flattened every tree within a mile of the gravesite, which Dean observed dazedly after clawing his way out of the earth.</p><p>It occurred to him, belatedly, that it probably would have been more efficient to place the body above ground.</p><p>Castiel continued to stay behind to watch over the man, as per his orders. Dean Winchester was to be protected, treasured, even, and he, rather regrettably, had a history of not seeing himself that way. But it was more than blind obedience that kept his eyes pinned to the events unfolding below on Earth; it was intense curiosity.</p><p>It had been so long since he had been permitted to interact with humans directly. Actually, come to think of it, he couldn't remember the last time it had been allowed, which was very odd, but Castiel tended not to dwell on such things. If he was meant to remember, he was sure he would, eventually. If not, then it simply was not meant to be.</p><p>But his overall fascination with God's lesser creatures was magnified tenfold when it came to Dean Winchester, and not simply because of the glorious destiny he had yet to fulfill. He was not vain enough to presume ownership over any soul, but it had been Castiel who had first spotted him in Hell, scarred and broken as he was. It was Castiel's mark he now bore and saw in his reflection. If not ownership, then it was perhaps responsibility he felt for the man. He wanted him to be safe.</p><p>No, not want, per se. Angels didn't want. They obeyed.</p><p>Castiel figured that it was about time had ought to explain what was going on to Dean Winchester, as the man was stumbling about lost and confused and more than a little scared, though that was an emotion he was quite expert at concealing on a surface level. Surely, a man capable of containing the brilliance of Heaven's mightiest warrior would have almost no trouble hearing from such a simple seraph as himself. Even so, humans in the past had rarely reacted calmly in the presence of angels, and the last thing he wanted to do was terrify him further, so perhaps starting with a simple "hello" would suffice.</p><p>It...did not go as planned.</p><p>The ground quaking and the windows of the small convenience store shattering were to be expected, of course; this was just a natural effect of his true voice, but he certainly hadn't meant to send Dean crashing to the floor in pain. He wondered at first if he had messed up somehow in recreating his body, but no, he was too precise to allow such a mistake. It was far more likely that he was going through some sort of readjustment period and was therefore much too sensitive at the moment to listen to an angel. Still, it was probably for the best that Castiel seek out a vessel for the time being, just in case.</p><p>He found one by the name of James Novak, Jimmy to those who knew him best. His was a warm, kind soul full of love for God and family, and who, despite a notable stubborn streak, could hear Castiel and obeyed out of deep faith. He didn't ask for proof of divinity, but Castiel provided it anyway, and from then on he stayed steadfast in his belief despite his family's growing concern. It baffled him, truly, how quick the others were to doubt his existence, to doubt the truth from Jimmy's lips. But humans were very fickle creatures overall, as his brothers so often liked to remind him. Perhaps it was simply because Jimmy was special, and Castiel told him as much.</p><p>Somehow, that only strained the relationship with his family further.</p><p>Castiel was called away from circling Jimmy suddenly and without warning by a woman's voice. She placed a tether on him, feather light but firm, through the mark of Grace he had left on Dean and tugged on it incessantly, and annoying little buzzing in his ear asking for his name. He answered, hoping that it might be enough to satisfy her and shake her loose. It, unfortunately, was not.</p><p>She was remarkably persistent in her attempts to peel back the veil as he struggled to keep it shut around him. He tried to tell her through the connection to stop, that his true form was not meant for mortal eyes to see, but she pushed on, poking holes and circumventing all his attempts to keep her out. Eventually, she got through, and after a horrific shriek of pain, the link finally dissipated. Too late again.</p><p>Castiel pitied the woman Pamela, but he <em>had</em> warned her. And now Dean was angry with him. This wouldn't do at all.</p><p>He tried apologizing, explaining himself again, this time in as soft a voice as he could possibly muster. The building shook, glass rained down upon the room, and once again, Dean Winchester was left covering his ears and diving to the floor, shocked and angrier than ever. He really needed his vessel now before Dean went on to do something phenomenally stupid, as was his wont.</p><p>He only made a quick pit stop along the way to take care of some demons that had been threatening his charge. Easy, low level vermin, nothing like what had been thrown at him in Hell. It didn't even take a second.</p><p>Jimmy was praying when Castiel returned to him, and he wasn't very happy either. It was regrettable, how this man's life had fallen apart, but there was nothing that could be done, and Castiel would accept no fault for his own existence. Besides, matters at hand were of much greater import than Jimmy's personal problems, which Castiel explained in no uncertain terms before requesting the use of his body in service to God's Plan. Jimmy was mildly taken aback, but after a promise that his family would be protected, he offered the "yes" that Castiel needed.</p><p>When was the last time he had taken a vessel? There was another thing he couldn't quite remember. Surely, he must have, else there wouldn't be much need to preserve a bloodline specific to him. Whether he had or hadn't at some point in his long history, he couldn't have anticipated how uncomfortable it would be. He felt confined in the skin stretched too tight over his Grace, restricted physically to a specific point in space and time. He could still see beyond, could still hear the familiar chatter of his brothers in the back of his mind, but all of that was balanced with the strange physical sensations that being on this plane of existence brought.</p><p>Temperature was an odd feeling, one that he'd never taken into account before. It was chilly, and the air was moist; he could see the water molecules drifting by if he squinted and wondered how humans got by with such limited vision. Jimmy had thrown a coat on over his other clothes to counteract the cold, and wasn't that strange as well. The atoms in the fabric sliding over his skin with every moment were vaguely irritating and yet another layer of restriction to contend with. Not that any of it actually limited him, but it was something to adjust to.</p><p>Jimmy's daughter, a little girl named Claire who also lit up to him as a possible vessel, not that he wanted to cram into something smaller, ventured out onto the porch. "Daddy?" she called, looking at Castiel curiously.</p><p>"I am not your father," he clarified for her, helpfully, in English this time. Forming words with an actual mouth was also very weird and an inconvenient way of communication, in his opinion. His voice grated against his vessel's vocal chords, and he would have winced, but he hadn't quite figured out facial expressions yet, either. Not wanting to linger, as time was of the essence, he took off immediately afterward.</p><p>He was grateful to realize that he was offered a lot more freedom when he flew, even with the body and its resident soul now tethered to him. He was actually a little disappointed to rematerialize outside a remote barn, and a little ashamed to realize that he stumbled a bit upon the landing. Apparently, human bodies are not necessarily meant to fold across space and time, and snapping back into it after the ride was a particularly jarring experience. He rolled his shoulders, readjusting to the skin and the bones and the air, and marched forward determinedly.</p><p>Dean had been summoning him, or trying to. Wrongly, of course. Castiel was already frustrated at the end of a particularly long day, annoyed by the confines of a human vessel, and now Dean and a friend by the name of Bobby Singer was spraying him with bullets, which seemed extremely rude, considering they had apparently wanted him to show up. The bullets didn't hurt, exactly, but they did minor damage to his vessel and to his clothing, which he would later have to mildly inconvenience himself by healing later. So, yes, perhaps he went a little overboard with his entrance, walls shaking and sparks flying from the light fixtures above him, but he figured a little Heavenly terror might be in order here.</p><p> And finally, <em>at long last</em>, he came face to face with Dean Winchester, the body he had crafted from nothing, the soul he had plucked from Hell. He was beautiful, the product of years of creation all leading up to this moment, to the glorious destiny he had before him. "Who are you?" Dean asked, leveling a defiant glare.</p><p>Castiel replied, "I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."</p><p>And then Dean stabbed him in the chest.</p><p>Again, <em>rude</em>.
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Perchance To Dream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Castiel's fascination with Dean Winchester was quickly fading into frustration.</p><p>He was horrifically stubborn, distrustful, irreverent, and faithless. Castiel had known all of this going in and knew that underneath all of that was a good man, but his surface level bravado was so irritating that it would have been easy to forget. Angels didn't forget, of course, unless they needed to, but he was quickly realizing why his brothers preferred to keep their distance from humanity.</p><p>Castiel did not want to be like his brothers. Dean was not very fond of them, but he at least tolerated Castiel, and he would like to keep it that way, even if it seemed like an impossible task, at times.</p><p>He supposed he must have overcompensated, however. Whenever he appeared, Dean was always going on about "personal space," which only served to confuse Castiel further for many reasons, the least of which being that trivial things like space and time and matter were more or less relative to him. He could have sworn through his distant observations of humanity over the years that physical closeness was a sign of familiarity and friendship, something which most humans found comforting, and that eye contact was key to understanding. But apparently, there was such a thing as being "too close" and that staring unblinkingly at someone for extended periods of time was considered "creepy." These were the sorts of intricacies to human communication that he had yet to master.</p><p>Although, he had to admit, on occasion, that he would continue to do it specifically to annoy Dean if he was being particularly frustrating that day.</p><p>He also learned, rather quickly in fact, that sleep was not only necessary to humans but nearly sacred, at least according to Dean, who despite not getting very much of it on a regular basis, would aggressively defend the few hours he managed to rest. Dean kept either a gun or a knife underneath his pillow at any given time, and although he had finally somewhat adjusted to Castiel's presence popping in and out of his life, the first time he'd woken Dean up suddenly had resulted in yet again being stabbed rudely in the chest. He'd at least thought to grumble out something resembling an apology that time as Castiel tossed the knife away, but he then insisted on brewing and drinking a mug of coffee with half-lidded eyes before they could converse any further.</p><p>Castiel had thought to circumvent this by instead visiting Dean in his dreams instead of waking him up, and while this was the least lethal option, Dean was no less indignant about it. Something again about personal space, even though slipping inside Dean's unconscious wasn't really a matter of physical closeness at all. He supposed it also had something to do with threatening him the first time he had appeared inside Dean's dreamscape. He'd been bluffing, of course, just trying to intimidate him into being a little less, well, <em>frustrating</em>. He was far too important, and Castiel had gone through far too much effort to retrieve him to simply toss him back into the Pit.</p><p>Castiel considered himself very fortunate, then, when he flew in to check in with Dean late one night and found him awake. It had become somewhat routine to give Dean small updates on the war when he could get away from the front. There was much that couldn't be said, much that he couldn't be told about his part in all of this, but Castiel found him much more agreeable and cooperative when Dean felt like he knew what was going on and what they were up against. He wanted to be useful, an admirable trait, but it wasn't his time yet.</p><p>Dean was seated at the small work desk in the ocean themed motel room far from any shore, flipping through his father's journal, leather jacket draped over his shoulders. "Hello, Dean," Castiel greeted, and he jumped, only relaxing again once he had turned in his seat and saw who was standing behind him.</p><p>"Dammit, Cas," he groaned, "you can't just sneak up on someone like that."</p><p>Castiel tilted his head in confusion. "I did not. I announced my presence clearly," he defended.</p><p>Dean opened his mouth to dispute but seemingly thought better of it. "Yeah, sure, whatever," he dismissed with a wave of his hand.</p><p>"Your brother's not here," Castiel noted. It was not a question, but Dean took it as one.</p><p>Dean shrugged, turning back around to the desk. "He goes off sometimes. I don't ask. Who knows what habits he picked up in the last few months. Only problem is he takes my car."</p><p>Castiel, of course, knew exactly where Sam was and what he was up to at any given time, but now was not the time to tell Dean that. In fact, he'd hoped the brothers would have already worked it out between themselves by now, but as predicted, he was going to have to interfere before too long. Humans could be such stupid, messy, reckless things, these two more than most, but hadn't that always been part of the plan?</p><p>"Did he not tell you anything before he left?" Castiel asked, already knowing that whatever Sam Winchester said would have been a lie.</p><p>Dean shrugged. "I dunno. I was asleep."</p><p>"But you are awake now."</p><p>Dean rolled his eyes and cast a mocking grin over his shoulder. "Yes, Captain Obvious. Thanks for noticing."</p><p>"Why are you awake, Dean?"</p><p>Instead of answering, Dean turned the question back on Castiel. "Why are <em>you</em> dropping by my motel room at," he glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand, "two-forty-nine in the morning?"</p><p>"I was simply able to get away from the front at this time to give you assessment of our progress," Castiel explained, "but I can see I've caught you at a bad time." At least in terms of mood. Apart from that, Dean being awake and Sam being gone actually made this more ideal than most other times. "I'll let you get back to your rest."</p><p>To Castiel's surprise, Dean shook his head. "Nah, you might as well stick around at this point. Since you already made the trip, at least. There's beer in the fridge if you want."</p><p>"I do not require any sustenance," Castiel informed him, though the offer had been thoughtful.</p><p>"Then do whatever it is you angels do to make yourselves at home," Dean said with an exasperated sigh. Beneath the frustration, Castiel could at least tell that this was Dean reaching out for some sort of companionship. In his own way. He was a lonely person by nature, from what he had seen of his soul, and it was touching that Dean held him in enough regard to not continuously push him away, though he would prefer it if he might stop the occasional panicked stabbing and shooting. Keeping his body and clothes mended was becoming a bit of a nuisance.</p><p>Castiel, however, wasn't exactly sure how one who existed for most of eternity as a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent would go about "making themselves at home" in a rundown, geographically incorrectly themed temporary lodging. Truthfully, he was content to simply stand where he was. Well, not content, but close enough to it.</p><p>If nothing else, Dean appeared to be comfortable going about his business in this setting, so Castiel thought it best to take an interest in what he was doing. Humans usually found that flattering, correct? He wandered closer to the desk, where he could watch as Dean methodically flipped through the worn pages of John Winchester's journal every couple of seconds. He opened his mouth to comment about a slight inaccuracy on the page regarding Skinwalkers when Dean tensed up and pulled the book closer to him.</p><p>"Would you quit reading over my shoulder?" he said, edging away from Castiel as far as the chair would allow him. It appeared that he had intruded on his so-called "personal space" again. He considered rolling his eyes but took a respectful step away instead.</p><p>Still, he refuted, "I assure you, I am not. I already know the entire contents of your father's journal."</p><p>Dean snapped the book shut and arched an eyebrow at him. "How's that?"</p><p>"Because you do," Castiel replied simply. Dean said nothing, only motioned for him to elaborate. "I have seen your soul, Dean. I know everything about you."</p><p>"No, you don't," Dean scoffed.</p><p>"I know that you suffer from a fear of flying. That your favorite band is a group called Led Zeppelin. That every night when she tucked you in, your mother would tell you 'angels are watching over you.' I know that your brother Sam gave you that amulet you always wear. He thinks it's for protection; you know it is not and yet you wear it anyway. I know that you once tried on women's underwear because of a dare from-"</p><p>"Alright! I get it! You can stop there!" Dean snapped, having gone pink in the ears. After a moment to recover from his embarrassment, he asked, "Do you know <em>why</em> I wear it?"</p><p>"The underwear?"</p><p>"What? No! Not the...no, Cas. The amulet."</p><p>"Sentimentality, perhaps," Castiel answered with a shrug.</p><p>Dean shook his head with a wry smile. "See, you may know everything about me, Cas, but you don't <em>know</em> me."</p><p>Castiel furrowed his brow. "I do not understand."</p><p>"Didn't think you would."</p><p>Dean watched him, as if waiting to see what Castiel would try next. Defend himself, perhaps, as he was a millennia old creature who knew and understood far more than what a mere human could perceive, and Dean's insistence on proving his imperfection, as if somehow that would validate his twisted worldview, was becoming quite grating. There would be no point in it, though. The air in the room had soured, the atmosphere becoming awkward; even <em>he</em> could see that.</p><p>Castiel chose to sit down, to settle himself on Dean's level and begin again. Not on Sam's bed, of course; it rankled of demon blood. But he stiffly lowered himself down on an acceptable spot at the foot of Dean's bed, nestled among the twisted sheets and haphazardly tossed clothing.</p><p>"Your father, he has beautiful handwriting," Castiel offered as a new branch in conversation.</p><p>Dean huffed in what might have been a half-hearted attempt at a laugh and glanced back at John Winchester's neat, blocky scrawl. "Yeah. I, uh, suppose he does."</p><p>"Why do you continue to study his book when you know it by heart?"</p><p>For once, Dean appeared to not have a witty retort at the ready. He swallowed, considering his answer. "Because it's familiar, I guess," he answered hesitantly, as if he himself wasn't quite sure. He ran his fingers over the worn leather cover. "Back when Sammy and I were still searching for him, it was all I had, you know? And then after...and now..." Dean's jaw tightened over whatever he was unable to express.</p><p>"Your feelings for your father are...complicated," Castiel concluded after a moment.</p><p>"I'm pretty sure all feelings are complicated to you." There he was, the Dean Winchester he knew back with his cutting remarks. However, Castiel gave a slight tilt of his head in agreement to this, which seemed to throw Dean off a second. He cleared his throat, then added, "But yes."</p><p>Neither of them spoke for a long, tense moment. Dean deciding whether or not he should elaborate while Castiel tried to give him the space to do so. Finally, he continued, "My father was a screwed up, obsessive son of a bitch. But he was some of the only family I had, especially once Sam had ditched us. Some days, I can't decide whether or not I should hate him. I remember sometimes that he had suffered the unimaginable and was doing the best he could. Then I remember all the crap he put Sammy and I through, crap we didn't deserve." He paused. "That <em>I</em> didn't deserve."</p><p>"You didn't deserve any of it, Dean," Castiel supplied immediately.</p><p>Dean rolled his eyes. "I know. Isn't that what I just said?"</p><p>"Yes. But you needed to hear it, too."</p><p>Dean twisted back around in his chair to hide the discomfort on his face. It wasn't an unexpected reaction. Dean Winchester had a long way to go towards accepting that he was valuable.</p><p>They both looked towards the door at the sound of the Impala engine pulling up outside the room. "Sam's back," Dean said. "You gonna stick around and say 'hey?' I don't think you two have officially met." But when Dean turned back to his bed, Castiel was already gone.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>The next time Castiel saw Dean was when he had to show him what Sam had really been up to all this time. Dean was less than pleased afterwards, not just with Sam but with demons and angels and monsters and, well, everything. So Castiel kept his distance for a while.</p><p>Castiel only returned when he felt Dean in significant distress. He kept tabs on him, closer than any other angel, in fact. Whether it was out of responsibility or a sense of attachment to the first human he'd had the privilege to know personally, he wasn't entirely sure. Even so, he rarely interfered, not even when Dean's heart almost gave out from anxiety; he was so often in life-threatening danger that it was easy to tune out the fear and pain. The Winchesters' past success rate and Heaven's set-in-stone plans for Dean's future kept him from worrying too much.</p><p>This felt different, however. He was asleep, for one thing, instead of on a hunt. But this felt far worse than just any old nightmare that humans tended to have.</p><p>This felt like Hell.</p><p>This must have been what it looked like to him, Castiel thought as he entered Dean's dream. Rough stone walls caked with years worth of flaking layers of dried blood with rivulets of fresher stuff running between the cracks and seams. Rusty hooks dangling from taught iron chains overburdened with unrecognizable viscera. Deafening screams, human and inhuman alike, echoing from everywhere and nowhere and the overwhelming stench of rot and decay. It was all of these things and somehow worse still, something more horrific than what human senses or souls could even comprehend without unraveling completely.</p><p>Castiel saw Dean, pinned and stretched out on the rack before his torturer, but seeing him was all he could do, strangely enough. He could recognize his face, or rather, what was left of it, but he couldn't feel the soul underneath or the pulse of life that should be emanating from him. No, this Dean was well and truly dead, eyes clouded and unseeing, mouth gaping and hollowed out, limbs twisted at impossible angles, and guts shredded to ribbons and spilling out onto the floor.</p><p>For a moment, Castiel didn't understand. Dean wasn't actually dead, or else he couldn't be inside his head still. And dying in dreams usually resulted in the dreamer waking up.</p><p>Above him, suspended on hooks and chains and pikes and nails and nooses all emanating from somewhere to far and too dark to see, other souls cried out or spat jeers down at the torturer in the center of the room, whose back remained to Castiel.</p><p>"Please, don't do this!" one begged.</p><p>"You goddamned demonic whore! Just wait until I get my hands on you!" shouted another.</p><p>Their voices were all familiar and all the same. Castiel's eyes traveled upward and saw that the souls, every single one of them, wore Dean's face. "Pipe down, all of you!" the torturer commanded in the same voice, yet somehow more solid and real than the rest, and the reality of the nightmare finally dawned on Castiel. "You'll all get your turn."</p><p>"Dean," Castiel said, his voice rippling through the dream like a crack of thunder. Dean, the real Dean, the one standing in the middle of the room, wicked knife in hand and covered with blood that was and was not his own, finally turned to face him. A flurry of emotions flashed through his narrowed eyes in an instant. Fear, aggression, suspicion, confusion, and finally, recognition.</p><p>"Cas?" he asked, his voice a hopeful whisper. The fight left his body all at once, and the blade slipped through his slackened fingers and clattered to the floor. "This isn't...you're not supposed to..."</p><p>"You're dreaming, Dean," Castiel assured him, approaching carefully as one would a frightened animal, palms bared unthreateningly. "This isn't real."</p><p>Dean blinked several times and furrowed his brow, his brain trying and failing to catch up. "I...I'm not..." he stammered. He started to turn his head to take in the carnage behind him, but Castiel reached out and guided his face back towards him, and perhaps the most worrying thing about all of this was that Dean allowed it without protest.</p><p>Locking eyes with him, Castiel told Dean, "I'm going to take us out of here, okay?" He gave the barest nod in response, and Castiel pressed two fingers to his forehead. The nightmare that had been Dean's Hell melted away instantly, replaced with a warm breeze rustling autumn colored leaves and the cool lap of water against a wooden dock.</p><p>Castiel pulled his hands back as Dean heaved a shuddering sigh of relief. He took in the surrounding trees as he rubbed his hands against his jeans, as if they were still unclean. "How did we...?" Dean began, but as he was still recovering from the shock of, well, everything, he trailed off.</p><p>"This is a place you feel at peace. I thought you might appreciate the change of scenery. This is all still in your head, of course," Castiel explained.</p><p>Dean finally nodded in understanding. A weary smile ghosted across his lips as he inhaled deeply, breathing in what must have been a familiar scent but was totally lost on Castiel, who could see only the illusion. "Bobby used to take me fishing here as a kid, just the two of us. No Dad breathing down my neck. No Sammy to take care of. Didn't even have to talk. I could just sit there and..." He stopped suddenly, as if embarrassed. "But you knew that already."</p><p>"I did."</p><p>"So I'm dreaming, huh?" Dean said, plastering on a smile and wandering to the end of the dock. "Like actually lucid dreaming? Man, I've tried to do this for years but never managed it."</p><p>"Well, technically, <em>I'm</em> controlling it, but-"</p><p>Dean continued, giddy for the distraction. "Dude, could I fly if I really wanted to? Because that would be so cool. Wait, on second thought, no flying. What about breathing underwater?" He considered the lake before him.</p><p>Castiel glared at him, exasperated. There was a real issue here that he was intentionally ignoring. "Dean..."</p><p>"Oh, come on, Cas!"</p><p>"Dean!" Castiel cut him off sharply. Dean's face fell abruptly, caught in the act. "You remember Hell."</p><p>Dean's mouth settled into a sullen scowl. "Yeah," he reluctantly admitted. "What of it? I thought you knew that already, Mr. 'I-know-everything-about-you'-angel-stalker." His words were a mess, trying to hurt but without any real sting.</p><p>"I didn't," Castiel informed him. "I'm not a mind reader, Dean. I only know what I saw of your soul before I placed you back in your body. If I had known, I would have never..." As Dean waited for him to continue, something like remorse rankled inside Castiel. His orders had been to keep Dean in line, and Heaven's orders were always just, but no one had placed the words in his mouth. That was his own folly. "I should never have threatened to return you to that place. I am sorry."</p><p>Dean focused his attention on a knot in the wood by his shoes as he mumbled his reply. "Don't worry about it. I was being a bit of an ass."</p><p>"Yes. You were."</p><p>Dean's eyes snapped back up. "Well, don't sugarcoat it for me, Cas."</p><p>"Even so, I am sorry," Castiel repeated.</p><p>Dean cast him a lopsided grin. "Any chance I could get that in writing?"</p><p>This time, Castiel actually did roll his eyes. "I am simply owning up to my mistake. Angels aren't perfect, Dean, and certainly not myself."</p><p>Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Any chance I could get <em>that</em> in writing?"</p><p>"Dean!" Castiel snapped for the second time that night. Dean held up his hands placatingly, still biting back a smile. If Castiel didn't know him so well, the conversation would have ended there, but he recognized this for what it was. A diversion, a distraction from a more serious topic that he didn't want to confront.</p><p>"Why have you not told Sam?" Castiel asked.</p><p>"Same reason why I wear the amulet," Dean answered evasively, crossing his arms. Castiel leveled another glare at him until he threw up his hands in frustrated defeat. "Because I don't want him to worry, okay? Are you happy now? I had to spend what I thought was my last year watching my little brother tear himself apart over what was going to happen to me. I don't want to see him fall apart again over something he can't change. It's my job to protect him, damnit, not the other way around."</p><p>"Protect him from what, exactly? He's going to find out eventually, Dean."</p><p>"Then I'll cross that bridge when I get there. And he is <em>never</em> going to hear about everything, do you hear me?" Dean marched forward right to Castiel's face, so that his anger consumed his vision. "So whatever you think you saw back there, you better forget it. Because if I find out you told him, I'm going to learn how to kill you sons of bitches real fast."</p><p>Castiel did not flinch away from the threat. Dean was shaking, scared, and looking to fight something so that he wouldn't have to be. "You think that if others knew what you have done, they will look at you differently. Is that it?"</p><p>Dean jerked back, as though he'd been struck, but Castiel remained steady. "I can deal with the sad puppy pity looks," he bit out, somewhat unconvincingly. "Been dealing with them my whole life. I can deal with people being afraid of me. But if they saw...if they knew how I broke...the things I've done..." He clenched and unclenched his fists anxiously at his sides. "They wouldn't understand, Cas. <em>I</em> don't even understand.</p><p>"I hurt people, Cas, and I <em>liked</em> it. I can lie to myself that they were in Hell for a reason and deserved what they got, but after the things I did to them, you can't tell me that no one deserved to be on that rack more than I did. But I couldn't go back. I just couldn't." Dean's eyes shone wet with tears as he swallowed back a sob.</p><p>Castiel thought he ought to comfort him, but he got the distinct feeling that Dean would shove away any sort of physical contact at the moment. Although he could never claim to be the most tactful of creatures, words were all he had left. "I know, and yet I do not see you as any more or less deserving than anyone else," he offered lamely.</p><p>Dean shook his head with a wet laugh. "No offense, Cas, but you're not exactly..." He gestured vaguely. "It's not the same. You're not Sam. Or Bobby. Or anyone." At Castiel's tilt of his head, he hurriedly backtracked. "I mean, you're someone, obviously. But you're...you're a little weird."</p><p>"These people, your family, they know you well?" Castiel asked.</p><p>"Well, yeah, but-"</p><p>"Then they should see you even better than I do."</p><p>"And what do you see?" Dean asked hesitantly.</p><p>"Your soul."</p><p>Dean snorted. "Yeah. We've established that."</p><p>"Human souls are strong, powerful, resilient," Castiel explained. "They can be bent and twisted and damaged in a million other ways. But never broken." He walked forward, pressing a hand to Dean's chest. "I can see how Hell has shaped yours, but what is utterly remarkable is that your soul remains <em>you</em>. And it is beautiful." Castiel let his hand fall and stepped back from a now very flustered Dean Winchester. "Those closest to you see it too."</p><p>Dean took nearly a full minute to try and process this, and even during all that time, Castiel could tell it hadn't entirely clicked with him yet. In the end, he seemed to decide to leave the matter to rest. Neither arguing the point nor justifying it with his response. "Cas, you flirt," he muttered before turning and heading to the edge of the dock, where he sat down and removed his shoes to allow his toes to skim the water's surface. Castiel allowed him a moment to compose himself before joining him there, though the lake felt like nothing to him, as nothing about their surroundings was actually real.</p><p>"Is there a reason you decided to pop inside my head?" Dean asked after they had been sitting in companionable silence for quite some time.</p><p>"I sensed your distress," Castiel answered.</p><p>"You can do that?"</p><p>Castiel nodded. "Yes. A bond was formed when I raised you from Hell. I am able to use it to keep track of you, to a certain extent."</p><p>Dean glanced down at his shoulder briefly before continuing, indignantly, "Then what about all the other times? Or every time I've almost been ganked by a monster in the past week alone?"</p><p>Castiel only latched onto the first question. "You've had this nightmare before?"</p><p>"Not exactly," Dean breathed, suddenly intensely focused on the ripples his feet were making in the water. "It's different every time. But yeah. I dream of Hell more often than not. I try to avoid it, stay awake as long as I can, but I can't escape it forever."</p><p>"My apologies," murmured Castiel. "As you've so <em>graciously</em> pointed out, I do not know you or know how to read your emotions very well. I am still learning."</p><p>"Cas, was that <em>sarcasm</em>?"</p><p>"In my defense, your life is in danger more often than not. It is difficult to discern when I am needed to intervene. I shall attempt to do better in the future."</p><p>"I got an angel to use sarcasm. Can I go to Hell for that? Again?"</p><p>Castiel rolled his eyes, but Dean's smile was infectious. "You know, you could always just pray if you really needed assistance," he told him.</p><p>Dean wrinkled his nose at the suggestion. "Nah. Not really my style. Get a cellphone, dude."</p><p>He should be irritated, but instead Castiel smiled. "I'll consider it," he told Dean. They continued to sit in silence, watching the carefully recreated world in Dean's head, until he woke up.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>When Castiel returned to his dreams sometime later to pull him out of another nightmare, he did not stop to look around. After everything, Dean deserved some sort of privacy, he thought. But when they once again arrived at the peaceful place, he found himself pinned up against the trunk of a tree, Dean's hands at his collar, shaking with fury. Castiel was confused, as he often was when it came to Dean. Despite losing the seal of Samhain, he'd thought they'd last parted under amicable circumstances.</p><p>"What did I tell you, Cas? How could you?" Dean spat in his face.</p><p>This did not clarify anything for Castiel. "I am at a loss, Dean. I do not know what I have done to anger you."</p><p>"Sam? Hell? Any of this ringing a bell?"</p><p>"I believe it is a euphemism of a sort."</p><p>Dean shoved off of him and marched down the dock. "Very funny, Cas." He did not appear to find it funny at all.</p><p>Castiel did his best to smooth down the lapels of his coat before approaching Dean. "What happened?"</p><p>Dean glared at him incredulously. "What happened?" he repeated, mockingly. "Someone told Sam that I remember Hell is what happened. Now the dude's constantly on my ass about sharing my feelings or whatever. Now, I've only told one other person the truth, so I wonder who it could have been." He directed the last part at Castiel with as much venom as he could muster.</p><p>"I have not spoken to your brother since we met," Castiel told him.</p><p>"Bang up job on that introduction, by the way," Dean needled. "Kid prays to you his entire life and all you say to him is 'hey, look, it's the freak with demon blood?'"</p><p>"That is not what I..." Castiel began, but he took a deep breath and let the matter drop. Dean was looking to pick a fight.</p><p>"Then, who was it?" Dean demanded.</p><p>"I do not know," Castiel admitted. "It could very well have been any number of my brothers and sisters, though I suspect Uriel would be the most likely candidate. I do not think he likes your brother very much." Not to say that Castiel had taken much of a liking to Sam or his habits, either, but Dean was partial to him, and it was best not to insult him in his presence.</p><p>"No offense, but Uriel's kind of a dick."</p><p>"You always say 'no offense' right before saying something offensive," Castiel noted.</p><p>"So, what? Uriel can read minds? I thought you said angels couldn't do that."</p><p>"Not <em>your</em> mind, per se," Castiel replied, "however, anyone else could choose to listen in on your dreams." Dean shifted uncomfortably at that. "I thought that much was obvious."</p><p>Dean shrugged. "I dunno. I was kinda hoping that was just some perk of whatever bond you mentioned last time. So, any one of you winged jokers could come barging into my head whenever you feel like it. Gotta say, not a fan."</p><p>Castiel nodded in affirmation. "It is also just as likely that they gleaned it from my own knowledge of you."</p><p>"The angels can't read my mind, but they can read yours?" Dean asked.</p><p>"All of us are connected through Heaven in some way or another."</p><p>"Like some sort of holy hive mind?"</p><p>"No, we are all individuals," Castiel explained. "But we can sense each other and hear each other beyond physical communication. It is difficult to explain in human terms. I could try in Enochian, but it is really more of an abstraction."</p><p>"No, no. It's fine." Dean exhaled slowly and swung his arms in the following uncomfortable silence. "Well, this is awkward."</p><p>"You mean the fact that other angels have access to our conversations or that you slammed me up against a tree and threatened to kill me?"</p><p>"Um, yes? Both. But about that last part...I, uh, I shouldn't have...I just assumed..."</p><p>"Apology accepted, Dean," Castiel cut him off. His shoulders visibly sagged with relief. "I am also sorry for leading you to assume that our conversations are entirely private. I hope this does not make you more uncomfortable to call on me in the future, should you have any need to."</p><p>"Nah. I mean, it's not really your fault. Not like you can control it or anything."</p><p>"I can tune it out, if I wish to," Castiel admitted. "But it is my main line of communication with the rest of my garrison. It would not be wise to make myself unreachable during the current war." What Castiel would not admit is that he also would never wish to tune it out. Angels were not meant to be solitary. The loss of the voices of his brothers and sisters would feel like losing a part of himself, he imagined.</p><p>Dean nodded in reluctant agreement. "Do you think they could do without you on the front for a while?"</p><p>Castiel tilted his head, briefly skimming through the conversations currently happening among the angels, but nothing urgent came through. "I am not needed at this moment," he told Dean.</p><p>"Oh. Good." Dean awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hands shoved into his pockets in an attempt to look casual, not like he was asking for a favor. "It's just that it's been a while since I've gone fishing. Even longer since I've gone fishing with a friend."</p><p>Something lit up inside Castiel that he couldn't name, and he found himself smiling. "Are we friends, Dean?" he asked.</p><p>"Don't make it weird," came Dean's gruff reply, and he marched off towards the end of the dock, where two chairs and a cooler had appeared and were waiting for them. "Do you know how to fish?" he asked as Castiel took the seat next to him.</p><p>"I've observed humans catching fish through a variety of methods over thousands of years," Castiel said.</p><p>"So, that's a no, then," Dean concluded. He handed him a fishing pole, which had also appeared out of nowhere to suit his whims.</p><p>"I grasp the basic concept."</p><p>Dean stood, and Castiel copied him. "Yes, but there's some technique to it," he explained.</p><p>"Dean, this is a dream," Castiel reminded him flatly. "No technique is required as the pole, the fish, and even the water are illusory."</p><p>"Alright then, hotshot," Dean chuckled. "Let's see you cast."</p><p>Castiel drew the pole back and swung forward, just as he had seen millions of others do before. Except this did not have the intended result of the line soaring across the water. In fact, it didn't even make it over his shoulder. Halfway through the arc, the hook had snagged on a low hanging branch. Castiel tugged on the pole experimentally, but it appeared to be well and truly stuck. And now Dean was laughing at him.</p><p>Dean cleared his throat to force back the laughter when Castiel glared at him. "Here, Cas. Try again with my pole, and I'll get yours down." As he passed by, Dean swapped their fishing poles before stepping back to a safe distance to untangle the line.</p><p>Castiel nodded his thanks before swinging again, and he was immediately met with resistance. On the follow through, the hook, which had been discreetly attached to one of his belt loops by a certain frustrating hunter, yanked his trench coat up and over his head, sending him stumbling. He fought to regain his stability and whatever was left of his dignity while Dean laughed uproariously behind him, only for one of his shoes to slip off the edge of the dock. He heard Dean snap out of it and come pounding back down the dock to his rescue, but he only managed to grab the tail end of Castiel's coat before being dragged into the lake as well.</p><p>The two of them resurfaced a moment later, Dean treading water as Castiel floated sullenly in place. The water wasn't real, and neither was his appearance of being wet, but it was humiliating nonetheless. "Not so easy, is it?" Dean said after spitting out a mouthful of water.</p><p>"That was hardly a fair attempt. You tricked me."</p><p>Dean splashed him in response. "Aw, lighten up, man." He swam back over to the dock and hoisted himself up before offering his hand to Castiel, who regarded it warily. "No tricks this time. I promise," Dean assured him, so in good faith, Castiel trusted him and allowed himself to be heaved out of the water.</p><p>"I would like to try again," Castiel said once he was seated back on the dock.</p><p>"Just a minute," Dean told him with a contented sigh. He stretched out on his back, the wood darkening around his figure where rivulets of water dripped from his clothes, his skin, his hair. He closed his eyes and settled into a blissful grin, probably enjoying the warmth of an imaginary sun Castiel could not feel. He was at peace, for the first time in a very long time, and as Castiel watched the dappled light dance across his face, he couldn't help but long for the same. He couldn't remember if it was something he'd ever felt. He was an angel; surely, he must have.</p><p>A minute turned into several, and the scene blurred and shifted and melted, like water being dashed across a chalk drawing. Dean was waking up, and it was time for Castiel to go.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>When Anna returned to Heaven's attention, Dean naturally gravitated towards her, despite her angelic status. She had Fallen, and was thus an abomination, but Dean seemed to take a liking to abominations. Castiel wondered briefly what that said about his partiality towards him and the friction it had caused between him and his superiors. Probably best not to dwell on it.</p><p>He'd pleaded with Uriel to allow him to confront Dean alone, thinking that maybe he could rely upon their bond to convince him to hand Anna over to Heaven. But it seemed that bond was the precise reason his superiors forbid it. "You are too lenient with him," they warned. "It is just as likely that he might convince you to step down." Castiel couldn't find it in him to argue the point.</p><p>It was only after the demons had interfered and Anna had escaped with her Grace that he was permitted to visit Dean again, but the ongoing war kept him far busier than he would have liked, and it was several weeks before he reappeared inside another of his dreams. He had missed this, he realized as he took in the illusion of the lakefront he always met Dean at, and he felt himself unwinding more and more the longer he stood on the dock.</p><p>That is, until Dean looked over his shoulder from where he sat in his chair and scoffed, "Oh. It's you." Castiel almost flinched at the derision in his tone.</p><p>"Hello, Dean," he greeted, not knowing what else there was to say.</p><p>"Been a long time," Dean said as Castiel approached.</p><p>"I've been busy."</p><p>"Hunting down Anna?" he asked pointedly.</p><p>Castiel could not meet his eyes. "Among other things," he admitted. "You are still angry with me."</p><p>"What gave it away?" Dean sneered.</p><p>"There was nothing I could do. She committed a crime against Heaven," Castiel explained defensively.</p><p>"For wanting to feel?"</p><p>"For <em>Falling</em>," Castiel clarified. "Angels are not permitted to feel, but such things can be fixed. Disobedience, however, must be punished."</p><p>Dean shook his head wearily. "Anna was right; being an angel must suck. I almost feel bad for you."</p><p>Castiel finally turned to look at Dean, confused. "Excuse me?"</p><p>"You know, I sort of used to look up to you? You were so self-assured, so confidant that what you were doing was right, but turns out you're no better than I am. Just Daddy's little soldier blindly following orders. Except I had the guts to stand up to my old man when I knew he made a bad call, when I'm willing to bet you haven't even seen your God's face!"</p><p>"Dean, stop!" Castiel warned, his hands balling into fists at his side.</p><p>Dean stood so that he was eye level with Castiel. "I'm sorry. Did I make you angry? I thought that wasn't allowed," he hissed through clenched teeth.</p><p>Castiel chose not to dignify that with a response and flew away.</p><p>It was not cowardice, he told himself later. Nor had that been anger burning in his chest, stirred by Dean's barbed words that hit a little too close to half-formed thoughts in the back of his mind. And he most definitely did not feel jealousy towards another angel that Dean suddenly held in higher regard than Castiel.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>When he next saw Dean, the hunter was in better spirits. Or, at the very least, he was grateful towards Castiel for saving him from facing off against Alastair again. And Castiel was more relaxed, as well, as putting a stop to this seal had appeased his superiors.</p><p>"Dean, this was a victory," Castiel assured him, as he seemed to still be reeling from all that had happened in the span of a few short seconds.</p><p>"No thanks to you," Dean grumbled. Nevermind, then. He was still displeased with him. He just hadn't gotten around to the yelling and the swinging part yet.</p><p>Castiel's face fell. "What makes you say that?"</p><p>He watched as understanding dawned on Dean's face. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You were here the whole time," he realized.</p><p>"Enough of it."</p><p>Dean was still unsatisfied, forcing Castiel to go through the lengthy and frankly irritating process of explaining and defending his actions, about how he secretly recruited them to this job so that they could breach the wards that the angels could not. Dean didn't seem any happier by the end of it, but his shoulders had released some tension. He was no longer reacting defensively, at any rate.</p><p>"If you want our help, why the hell didn't you just ask?" Dean asked sullenly.</p><p>"Because whatever I ask," Castiel said pointedly, "you seem to do the exact opposite." Dean looked away, unable to argue that point.</p><p>He did, however argue another, about the people in town who were going to start dying, now that the Reapers had returned to their work. "These are good people. Don't you think you could make a few exceptions?" he pleaded.</p><p>"To everything there is a season," Castiel recited in reply. It was heartwarming, truly, how much he cared for complete strangers. In fact, it was one of the few moments Castiel had glimpsed where on a surface-level, Dean was the righteous man that was prophecied. But his compassion here was, ultimately, misguided.</p><p>"You made an exception for me," Dean protested.</p><p>"You're different," Castiel told him, turning to look him in the eyes.</p><p>"I didn't ask to be." Dean's voice shook with disappointment. In himself or in Castiel, he couldn't be sure.</p><p>"People rarely ask for their destinies, Dean."</p><p>"And I didn't even believe in destiny until you jerks showed up and told me I had one," Dean shot back. "But no one will tell me what it is. You fly in, tell me I'm special, refuse to tell me why, and expect me to do whatever you ask because of that and I'm starting to feel like I'm being jerked around. Like this is one big cosmic joke."</p><p>"It's not," Castiel tried to assure him.</p><p>"Then just give it to me straight, man. As my friend, tell me. What exactly do you guys want from me?" Castiel gritted his teeth and had to look away from Dean's eyes, the eyes that he had colored, eyes in which, if he looked close enough, he could see his own reflection staring back at him, judging him. He did not like to lie, nor did he want to leave Dean disappointed in him again. He'd rather hear him laughing at Castiel's humiliation again than return to whatever tense standoff was between them now.</p><p>"It is not my place to say," Castiel bit out.</p><p>Dean threw up his hands in frustration. "Unbelievable," he scoffed, turning to walk away.</p><p>"Dean!" Castiel called in an attempt to get him to stop. He did, but kept his back to Castiel. "Please, I'm asking you to have <em>faith</em>."</p><p>He half-turned just to glare at Castiel. "What, in God's Plan?" he said mockingly. "You can take the Plan and shove it up your ass."</p><p>Stung, but still determined, Castiel stepped closer. "If not the Plan, then me," he pleaded. "As your friend, I ask that you trust me."</p><p>"That's still a lot to ask, Cas."</p><p>Castiel nodded in acknowledgement. "I know, and I have disappointed you in the past. But it has never been my intention to bring any harm upon you."</p><p>Dean considered this for a long, tense moment, then sighed heavily. "Fine," he said resignedly.</p><p>Castiel almost smiled. "I'll see you soon, Dean." And he took off.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>He almost immediately regretted asking Dean for his trust, and he regretted it a thousand times since. He regretted it when his superiors once again expressed their disapproval of his partiality to Dean and placed Uriel in charge. He regretted it when he saw how quickly they were losing the war and how his brothers and sisters were dying at the hands of an unknown enemy, and he knew what had to be done. He regretted it most when he saw the fear and betrayal in Dean's eyes when he was forced to ask him to take up the blade again, the one he still had nightmares about.</p><p>And even after that, perhaps what hurt the most was the way that Dean looked at him when they were finally alone, knowingly. "What's going on, Cas? Since when does Uriel put a leash on you?"</p><p>Castiel told him the truth without hesitation; he owed Dean that much, with the magnitude of what he was asking of him. "My superiors have begun to question my sympathies."</p><p>"Your sympathies?"</p><p>"I was getting too close to the humans in my charge. <em>You</em>." Dean's eyes widened marginally, and he glanced away. Perhaps he'd had doubts about Castiel's extension of friendship, not that it mattered much now. "They feel I've begun to express emotions, doorways to doubt. This can impair my judgement." Castiel turned away as he recited the words mechanically.</p><p>Dean moved so that he once again filled Castiel's vision, and he fought to keep a stoic expression. This was a test, not just for Dean but for himself, to see if he could keep Dean at arm's length. Dean was making that extraordinarily difficult, even after all of his insistence on personal space.</p><p>"Well, tell Uriel or whoever that you do not want me doing this. Trust me," Dean said, his voice close to breaking, and he stepped forward until he was facing the door, behind which lay Alastair.</p><p>"Want it, no." Castiel paused. "I told you before that the last this I would want is for you to be hurt," he admitted, softly, as if lowering his voice would keep the other angels from overhearing and understanding the gravity of what he'd said. "But I've been told we need it."</p><p>Dean exhaled slowly, and Castiel remembered him spitting the words "Daddy's little soldier" at him all those weeks ago. He heard them as clearly now as he did then, even if Dean didn't say them. "You ask me to open that door and walk through it? You will not like what walks back out."</p><p>Castiel finally risked a glance at Dean, and maybe it was for the best that he only saw his back and not the pain on his face that carried into his words. "For what it's worth, I would give anything not to have you do this." He knew already that it was worth nothing. Something had broken between them, something that words alone could not heal.</p><p>Dean walked through the door, and then the screaming started. It shouldn't have bothered Castiel. In fact, he almost wanted to take some sort of perverse pleasure in hearing Alastair suffer for what he had done to Dean and to millions of souls before him. But he couldn't. In every scream, he heard Hell. Dean's Hell.</p><p>Anna appeared to him then. He didn't try to subdue her. She was stronger than him, and he doubted it would end well for either party.</p><p>It was not in any way related to the fact that Dean had taken a liking to her or to misplaced sentiment over the history they shared.</p><p>He gave her all of the rehearsed responses when she protested Dean's treatment. "He's doing God's work" and "Who are we to question the will of God?"</p><p>Her reply shook him, gave voice to the tiny, drifting thoughts in the back of his mind that he'd never allowed himself to notice. "Unless this isn't His will."</p><p>When Castiel was resistant, she continued to hammer in her point, and her words felt like knives, like he was the one being chained to a rack, stripped and flayed to his core. "The Father you love, you think he wants this? You think he'd ask this of you? You think this is righteous? What you're <em>feeling?</em>" she stressed the word, and Castiel instinctively flinched away from what he knew to be wrong and what he knew to be true, "It's called doubt."</p><p>She took his hand, and Castiel remembered himself and jerked back as though burned. The truth of what she'd said still prickled along his skin and left him raw, but he pushed it away, as he pushed her away. This had to be another test, he thought, and maybe he had faltered with Dean, but that did not mean she could tempt him.</p><p>"I am nothing like you," he growled. "You <em>Fell!</em> Go."</p><p>Anna fluttered away, and he was left alone with the screams. He ought to feel better about himself now. But something inside him had started hurting and just wouldn't stop.</p><p>The screaming stopped. Castiel almost didn't realize it, but then he heard blows, and the voice crying out wasn't Alastair's. It was Dean's.</p><p>He burst in, too late again, but soon enough to save his life. Impossibly, Alastair had broken free. Castiel had scouted the location himself, bent the metal to build the rack with his own hands, and had painstakingly checked every stray mark in the Enochian devil's trap. He shouldn't have been able to escape, not in a million years, but here he was, impaling Castiel on a rusty nail while Dean bled out on the floor.</p><p>He was saved by Sam Winchester, of all people, who also confirmed that Alastair had no idea who was killing the angels. Even with all of the lost seals, Castiel could not imagine a mission of his that had ever gone more awry. He was certainly going to hear about it later, probably from Zachariah, since Uriel was conspicuously absent.</p><p>Sam, again, got to him first, and didn't that sting. To be berated and scolded by a barely human abomination for his failure and be left with no excuses, only apologies. He might not have minded it so much, might have even brushed it off as a nuisance even, if Sam hadn't been right and if evidence of his failure didn't lie just beyond the hospital doors, injured and unconscious.</p><p>Uriel was displeased when Castiel found him, sitting pensively by a playground left empty by the dreary weather. Though his anger was not directed at Castiel, but with Heaven, and Castiel's hesitant suggestion that Anna had been right all along, that Heaven truly was to blame for all this tragedy, only confirmed his ire. Uriel, too, fluttered away and left him in silence where there had once been laughter.</p><p>When he could no longer take the quiet night, he shouted Anna's name into the sky. She appeared with only the softest rustle of feathers and the barest flickering of the streetlight, and something inside him ached again. He had <em>missed</em> her, at least the version of her he'd known before she had Fallen, that much he could admit to himself. She'd always been a gentle and reassuring presence in the garrison, sympathetic when others were unmerciful yet fierce when they were fearful. Things seemed to fall apart after she had gone, and he still resented her for it, but perhaps things had been broken long before then and he just hadn't realized it yet.</p><p>"I'm considering disobedience," he admitted to her, reluctantly.</p><p>She nodded. "Good."</p><p>"No," he growled, "it isn't. For the first time, I feel..." He wasn't sure how to continue, didn't know how to describe what was warring inside him, but maybe that was enough. To feel.</p><p>"It gets worse," she told him, soft and understanding. "Choosing your own course of action, it's confusing, terrifying." She placed a hand on his shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting gesture, but he had to try his best not to shrug it off, to not listen to the voice in his head still screaming that what he was doing was against his very nature. This did not go unnoticed by Anna. "That's right. You're too good for my help. I'm just trash, a walking blasphemy."</p><p>Stung, she turned and walked away, and in desperation, he called after her. "Anna!" She paused. "I don't know what to do. Please, tell me what to do," he begged.</p><p>"Like the old days?" she said with a wry smile. "No. It's time to think for yourself."</p><p>"But how?" Castiel was confused, as he often was, but now more than ever. No, he was lost, and he hated it. He <em>hated</em>, and he hated that, too.</p><p>Anna looked as though she wanted to roll her eyes, like Free Will was something so easy to grasp, like he was nothing more than a child too stubborn to learn. Perhaps he was. "You already have," she told him. "You talk to Dean, yes? You untangle him from his nightmares?"</p><p>"How did you-?"</p><p>"He told me," she answered. "When he was explaining about Uriel appearing to him in a dream. Did anyone tell you to do that?"</p><p>"Well, no, but I-"</p><p>"And did you not pray that he would choose to save a town, even though that would mean another seal would be broken?"
</p><p>"Our orders were to follow him," he protested.</p><p>"Yes, but you knew that there was a right and a wrong answer there and you <em>wanted</em>." Anna let the word hang in the air, frozen between them. "You wanted him to take the right path. You know what it is to think and to feel no matter how wrong Heaven says it is. You just need to let go."</p><p>"And Fall? Like you?" he spat.</p><p>Anna was too used to his barbs to be offended by that point. "Maybe." Without another word, she vanished into the night.</p><p>Castiel cast his eyes downward. As long as he was admitting to emotion, he might as well register that he felt shame, though for what, he wasn't exactly sure. His gaze fell on a small valve meant to control water pressure for the fountain beside him, and suddenly, certain puzzle pieces fell into place, painting a picture he didn't want to look at. He flew back to the warehouse to be sure, and when he saw how the wheel had turned, how the venue he had chosen himself had undone his carefully crafted handiwork, he called for Uriel to confirm or deny his suspicions. He sincerely hoped the latter, but Alastair had not escaped on his own, that much was clear.</p><p>Uriel appeared, still angry at Heaven, and then he proceeded to dance around he evidence Castiel piled on top of him. "We're brothers, Uriel," Castiel said, fed up with his excuses. Uriel's general jovial attitude finally fell. "Pay me that respect. Tell me the truth."</p><p>Uriel's gaze hardened, and his sword slipped from his sleeve and into his hand. "The truth is the only thing that can kill an angel...is another angel."</p><p>Castiel watched the blade anxiously, horror etched onto his face. "<em>You</em>."</p><p>"I'm afraid so."</p><p>"You broke the devil's trap, set Alastair on Dean," Castiel growled, memories of Dean's broken and bloody face still fresh in his mind. He wanted to break something now, too. Something white-hot coiled in his chest, shaking in anticipation to strike.</p><p>"Alastair should never have been taken alive. Really inconvenient, Cas. Yes, I did turn the screw a little. Alastair should have killed Dean and escaped and you should have gone on happily scapegoating the demons," Uriel explained.</p><p>Castiel gaped at him incredulously. His brother. "For the murders of our kin?"</p><p>"Not <em>murders</em>, Castiel. No, my work is conversion. How long have we waited here? How long have we played this game? By rules that make no sense?"</p><p>Castiel shook his head and turned away so that Uriel couldn't see his true thoughts swirling behind his eyes as he recited again what he had told Anna. The words felt stale in his mouth. "It is our Father's world, Uriel."</p><p>"Our Father? He stopped being that the moment he created them! <em>Humanity</em>. His favorites. Swining, puking larvae."</p><p>And that was the moment Uriel lost whatever grip he had left on Castiel, where he lost any similarities with how Anna had pulled away from the light. The moment he degraded the creatures Castiel had grown fond of. The moment he sounded like Lucifer. "Are you trying to convert me?" he said, his voice hardening with resolve as he faced Uriel again.</p><p>"I <em>wanted</em> you to join me. I still do. With you we can be powerful enough to raise our brother."</p><p>"Lucifer," Castiel concluded, stepping away in horror.</p><p>Uriel continued rapturously, practically singing Lucifer's praises, and all his hymns fell on deaf ears. "Now, if you want to believe in something, Cas, believe in him."</p><p>"Lucifer is not God."</p><p>"God isn't God anymore!" Uriel refuted. "He doesn't care what we do. I am proof of that."</p><p>"But this..." Castiel remembered Anna's words. He knew this was wrong, no matter what God or Heaven or Uriel said. "What were you going to do, Uriel? Were you going to kill the whole garrison?"</p><p>"I only killed the ones who said 'no.' Others have joined me, Cas. Now please brother, don't fight me. Help me." Castiel leveled a glare at him. He'd lost the chance to call him brother when he had killed their family, leaving their bodies empty and bloody on the side of the road. "All you have to do is be unafraid."</p><p>Well, if that didn't make his cause sound righteous. But the thing was, Castiel had always felt unafraid. In fact, he'd felt nothing. Until now.</p><p>"For the first time in a long time, I am." His restraint snapped, and he launched Uriel into the wall.</p><p>For the second time that day, Castiel traded blows. And for the second time that day, he was losing. And to cap it all off, for the second time that day, he was saved by an abomination.</p><p>Anna appeared from behind, shoving her own sword through Uriel's throat. He collapsed, screamed as his Grace ignited, then fell finally and completely still, his wings seared into the concrete. Anna looked at Castiel pityingly as he stood, and he decided he couldn't take it any longer and flew away. But perhaps out of some twisted masochism, some desire for punishment after all he'd felt that day, after all he'd done, he flew to Dean.</p><p>Castiel had not been permitted to heal Dean, and he didn't understand why. Why, when Dean had been forced to torture for them, did they make him suffer now, or rather, even more than he already had?</p><p>The orders felt cruel and unusual, but they were orders, and Heaven's orders were always right. Or were they? Uriel's orders had been wrong and traitorous, and he had not been alone, if his words were to be believed. Could these, too, have some ulterior motive behind them?</p><p>Doubt. That's what Anna had called it. He was feeling doubt, and it was tearing him apart.</p><p>Dean was dreaming when Castiel reached him. Another nightmare. <em>That</em> he could help with, at least.</p><p>At first, Castiel thought this was Hell again. And it was, to some extant. The horrific, eldritch backdrop and thundering screams still shook the walls and windows outside, but he found himself in a concrete room just barely sheltered from all of that. A familiar room with a leaky pipe that dripped ominously away in the background, ticking away the seconds in an ominous countdown to the inevitable pain.</p><p>Dean was in the torturer's position, as usual, but he was not on the rack. Instead, it was Castiel wrapped in chains, head lolled to the side with blood dripping from his mouth. Alastair paced the floor behind Dean. "It's easier than it looks," he coaxed, voice slick as oil. "Just one cut. That's all it takes. Or would you rather take his place? I'm sure he'd love the chance to carve into you."</p><p>Dean was shaking, keeping his eyes pinned to the floor as he attempted to block out Alastair, who was starting to get impatient. "Do it! Now! Or I'll string you back up on that rack myself."</p><p>Enraged, Dean cried out and swung the knife in his hand around to stab Alastair in the stomach, only it was no longer Alastair standing behind him. It was Sam, his eyes glazed over and yellow. The water stopped dripping. "I knew you were weak," he said, withdrawing the knife and rearing back to return the favor. He didn't get the chance before Castiel leapt in front of Dean, the knife and Sam passing through him harmlessly and vanishing like smoke.</p><p>"I'm dreaming," Dean realized after a moment.</p><p>Castiel turned to face him. "Yes. You can rest now." He held up to fingers to transport Dean away from the gruesome scene his mind had concocted, but Dean stepped back, shaking his head.</p><p>"Just wake me up, man," he said.</p><p>"As you wish."</p><p>A moment later, Dean woke up in his hospital room with Castiel sitting anxiously beside him. He felt a strange mix of guilt and relief at the sight of Dean's eyes opening, and he wondered if emotions would ever get any less confusing. The novelty of them had worn thin, and they left him tired.</p><p>"Are you alright?" Castiel asked, even though he already knew the answer.</p><p>"No thanks to you," Dean croaked, managing to turn his head on the pillow with no small amount of effort.</p><p>"You need to be more careful."</p><p>"You need to learn how to manage a damn devil's trap," he shot back, a hollow attempt at humor.</p><p>"That's not what I mean," Castiel sighed, as much as he would like to return to their banter, to attempt to regain something of what he had before this mess. He'd already lost one friend, one brother, today. "Uriel is dead."</p><p>"Was it the demons?"</p><p>"Disobedience. He was working against us."</p><p>Dean considered this a moment, but then he asked the question Castiel had been dreading. "Is it true? Did I break the first seal? Did I start all of this?"</p><p>"Yes," he answered simply, but the full answer was not so simple, and as much as Dean deserved it, he still couldn't be told the entire truth. "When we discovered Lilith's plan for you, we laid siege to Hell," Castiel lied. It had been much, much later when they had gone to retrieve him. Heaven had said it was fate, and they were not to intervene, but if Castiel had ventured out a little sooner, could he have stopped all of this? "And we fought our way to get to you before you-"</p><p>"Jump started the Apocalypse?" Dean finished for him, his voice breaking. "Why didn't you just leave me there, then?"</p><p>Castiel couldn't find the proper words to soothe him. It had become unthinkable to him now that the angels would have left him to fester in the pit, not because he was the Righteous Man but because he was Dean, and Dean laughed too loud and cared too much and was too unwaveringly strong to belong in such a place. Instead of saying any of those things, Castiel relied again on what he was told, what he still thought was right. "It is not blame that falls on you, Dean; it's fate."</p><p>"Fuck that," Dean groaned, trying to mask how unsettled he was.</p><p>"The righteous man who begins it is the only one who can finish it. <em>You</em> have to stop it."</p><p>"Lucifer? The Apocalypse? What does that mean?" Castiel looked away, wishing he could be anywhere else. He couldn't say. Heaven would...well, he didn't know what Heaven would do to him if he told the truth. "Hey!" Dean snapped at him. "Don't you go disappearing on me you son of a bitch. What does that mean?"</p><p>"I don't know," Castiel answered too quickly.</p><p>"Bull!"</p><p>"I don't know," he repeated, as if he could somehow make it true. He looked at Dean pleadingly. "All I know is our fate rests with you."</p><p>"Well, then you guys are screwed," Dean told him, tears in his eyes. "I can't do it, Cas. It's too big. Alastair was right. I'm not all here. I'm not...I'm not strong enough."</p><p>Castiel stood abruptly. "That's not true," he assured Dean.</p><p>"Why? Because you can see my soul?" he shot back.</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"And how exactly does that give you more insight into who I am than I do, huh? You ever think you're just deluding yourself into seeing what you want to? Because of God's Plan?" Castiel, once again, was at a loss on how to respond, and slowly, he sat back down in his chair. "Well, I guess I'm not the man either of our dads wanted me to be."</p><p>"Dean, don't." But don't what? Castiel wasn't even sure. What he did know is that after everything, he needed Dean. Not just for the Plan, but by his side. His friend. He needed to know that in the end, his choices would be worth it, worth all of the pain and suffering and death that this war wrought.</p><p>Tears slipped down Dean's face. "Find someone else," he begged. "It's not me."</p><p>Castiel reached out, wanting to console him somehow. His fingers hovered just above where Dean's hand rested on the sheets, but he let his arm drop, and he flew away. Dean never noticed.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Zachariah then ordered that no angels have any contact with either Winchester for three weeks. Castiel threw himself into the war, smiting through countless demons, all the while keeping an eye on Dean as he regained his strength. It wasn't too much longer before Dean did something extremely stupid. Again. And Castiel had to intervene.</p><p>Because of course the Winchesters just so happened to find the current Prophet. And of course Dean got frustrated and threatened him and would have accidentally brought Heaven's wrath down upon him if Castiel hadn't shown up.</p><p>At least this was an order Castiel had zero qualms with upholding. The protection of Prophets had been one of God's earliest commands, and the names were written inside the memory of every angel. For once, stopping Dean didn't result in questioning his loyalty. An easy job.</p><p>But then, a miracle occurred.</p><p>Dean prayed.</p><p>When Dean prayed, it wasn't to God or Heaven or even one of the more powerful angels. It was to Castiel.</p><p>The prayer burned through him like a touch of Grace, lit him up like a livewire. He couldn't keep from smiling as he appeared before Dean, standing with his arms outstretched, face cast to the sky. "Prayer is a sign of faith," he said, announcing his presence. Dean spun around, looking more than a little surprised that his prayer had been answered. "This is a good thing, Dean."</p><p>"So, does that mean you'll help me?"</p><p>Right. There was the small matter of what he was praying for. Which was an impossibility.</p><p>"I'm not sure what I can do," Castiel told him.</p><p>"Drag Sam out of here now before Lilith shows up!" he demanded.</p><p>Castiel rolled his eyes and shook his head. They'd already been over this. "It's a prophecy. I can't interfere."</p><p>Dean's face hardened, and he stepped forward. Castiel found he had to look away from the intensity of his gaze, and for the first time, he understood the discomfort of having "personal space" invaded. "You have tested me and thrown me every which way, and I have <em>never</em> asked for anything. Not a damn thing! But now I'm asking. I need your help. Please."</p><p>"What you're asking, it's not within my power to do," Castiel sighed.</p><p>"Why? Because it's divine prophecy?"</p><p>"Yes!"</p><p>"So, what? We're just supposed to sit around and wait for it to happen?" Dean asked helplessly, searching Castiel's eyes.</p><p>"I'm sorry," he replied, even though he knew already that it meant nothing.</p><p>"Screw you," Dean spat. "Your mission. Your <em>God</em>. If you don't help me now, then when the time comes and you need me? Don't bother knocking." Dean shoved past him and started walking away, probably to do something else stupid.</p><p>"Dean," Castiel called softly. He didn't want things to end like this. He <em>couldn't</em> let things end like this, not for Heaven's sake.</p><p>Suddenly, an idea struck him. A borderline disobedient idea, but one that held the glimmer of possibility of working, and both parties would leave happily. Well, Dean would at least be happy, and that was enough for Castiel. Heaven would be...ambivalent, at best.</p><p>"Dean!"</p><p>"What?" he snapped gruffly, turning on his heel.</p><p>Castiel faced him, the ghost of a smile playing across his lips. He wanted Dean to catch on, to join him in this dangerous game of toeing the line. There was something exciting about all of the tension of it.</p><p>"You must understand why I can't intercede. Prophets are very special. They're protected," Castiel began.</p><p>"I get that!" he interrupted impatiently. Castiel only paced his words slower, impressing as much meaning into them as he could.</p><p>"If anything threatens a Prophet, anything at all, an archangel will appear to destroy that threat," Castiel explained. "Archangel's are fierce. They're absolute. They're Heaven's most terrifying weapon." He leveled his gaze at Dean, willing him to understand, and finally, he watched the gears turning behind his eyes until the words clicked in his mind.</p><p>Dean narrowed his eyes, considering. "And these archangels, they're tied to prophets?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"So if a Prophet was in the same room as a demon?"</p><p>"Then the most fearsome wrath of Heaven would rain down on that demon." Castiel looked away nonchalantly, as though he really were just answering a few routine questions, but he risked a glance back at Dean to gauge his reaction. "Just so you understand why I can't help."</p><p>Dean didn't quite smile, but for the first time in a long time, there was light in how he looked at Castiel again. "Thanks, Cas," he said sincerely.</p><p>"Good luck," Castiel said in parting. He thought he'd caught Dean winking at him before he flew off. He dismissed it as his own imagination, though he wasn't known for having much of one.</p><p>For hours, Castiel waited for one of his superiors to figure out what he had done, to come down on him with Heaven's wrath. But no one ever came. And more and more he was becoming confident that he had made the right choice.</p><p>It was a slippery slope, he knew, towards disobedience. He could feel himself teetering on the edge, peering into a dark and painful abyss. A stiff breeze, one final push might be just enough to blow him away completely, but would that be so bad? Dean, his friend, was down there, wasn't he?</p><p>Dean, who angered easily but showed mercy even at the most impractical of times. Dean, who defied Heaven yet prayed to Castiel. Dean, who was stubborn and dangerous and brilliant and so utterly beautiful in his imperfections that, glorious destiny or not, Castiel had no doubt that this was one of his Father's greatest creations, that the Hand of God was at work through him.</p><p>Dean, who deserved better. Deserved to know what was coming. Deserved, for once, a choice in deciding his fate.</p><p>He wondered if Dean would catch him if he Fell.</p><p>His mind made up, Castiel stepped off the edge, and he landed in a dream.</p><p>Dean was fishing at the lake, as usual. Castiel almost hated to interrupt him, but this was important. "We need to talk."</p><p>He jumped at first, but as soon as he realized it was Castiel, he relaxed, exasperated, back into his chair. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?" he asked without waiting for an answer. "Well, go ahead, take a seat, grab a beer. What's going on?" Dean offered up a smile, an olive branch after everything they'd gone through. He wished he could take it, pretend like things were as simple as before. But now he had doubts, and he didn't want to continue living a lie.</p><p>"It's not safe here. Someplace more private." Already Castiel could feel the eyes of his siblings watching, unnerved by his spontaneity. It was not something he was known for.</p><p>"More private? We're inside my head!"</p><p>"Exactly. Someone could be listening," Castiel reminded him.</p><p>Dean dropped all pretensions of relaxation. "Cas, what's wrong?"</p><p>Castiel pressed a slip of paper with an address into Dean's palm. "Meet me here. Go now."</p><p>He turned to leave, but Dean's hand caught the sleeve of his coat, stopping him. "Hey, just tell me, are you okay? You're not in trouble because of what you told me, are you?"</p><p>"No," he replied, and Dean sighed with relief. "But I am for what I'm about to tell you."</p><p>Before Dean could question him any further, Castiel tapped two fingers to his forehead and woke him up.</p><p>He nearly cursed at the brief delay a moment later, when he showed up at their rendezvous only to find members of his garrison waiting for him there. He did not draw his sword. He would not kill his kin like Uriel. He didn't go quietly either, but they showed no mercy, and it was barely a fight before he was forcibly dragged from his vessel and back to Heaven.</p><p>He found himself standing in a sterile room before one of his sisters. "Hello again, Castiel," she greeted pleasantly, though Castiel could not recall ever crossing her path before. "You will not remember me. My name is Naomi."</p><p>"Sister, please. It is of utmost importance that I return to Earth immediately," he told her.</p><p>"And persuade the Michael Sword against our cause?"</p><p>"I was not...I was simply going to warn him," Castiel clarified. "He has served us well, so far. He deserves to know the truth."</p><p>"You would do this despite knowing he is likely to reject our goals?"</p><p>"That was a distinct possibility, yes," he admitted. "It is a choice he would have to make, eventually."</p><p>"Yes. A choice he will make. Not you. Angels do not make choices," Naomi scolded. "You are here because you expressed disobedience. You understand why we can't have that, not when the true battle is so close at hand, not when angels like Uriel would support our greatest adversary?"</p><p>"I serve Heaven, not Lucifer."</p><p>"I will see to that. Now, sit," she commanded. Castiel obeyed. Because that's what angels do.</p><p>Suddenly, his entire world became pain. Needles drilled into his very core. He was unraveled, unmade, rearranged. Pieces of himself were snipped away and slipped through his fingers like grains of sand until they fell so far he could no longer remember what he had lost. It was endless agony until it wasn't, until a prayer slipped through the cracks, and Naomi withdrew.</p><p>"That will have to do for now," she sighed. "I heard your vessel. We are nothing if not true to our word. Go. I shall expect to see you back here soon to continue my work."</p><p>Castiel obeyed. But he remembered the pain. He did not remember Naomi.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>You stuck around until chapter 2? You're cool.<br/>Apologizing now for the insane amount of recap towards the end. So much of it is important to Castiel's character arc and to how this story is going to change going forward that I couldn't in good conscience gloss over it. I hope there's enough original moments and additions in there to make up for it.<br/>Anyways, stay tuned for the next probably stupid long chapter that I'll be screaming over with The Gremlin.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. My Brother's Keeper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Do you hate reading show dialogue as much as I hate transcribing it? If so, I deeply apologize. Once again, a lot of it unfortunately plays a part in the direction this fic is going to go. But we are slowly but surely edging our way into AU territory here folks!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam's screams reminded him of Hell.</p><p>Castiel had to admit that he held very little love in his heart for Sam Winchester, but his cries for help were heart wrenching enough that he couldn't help but wonder if the boy really deserved this fate. He was an abomination in Heaven's eyes, in <em>his</em> eyes, made so not only by the circumstances of his blood but also by his own choices. That much could not be helped. But Heaven had never truly spoken to Sam, had never seen the intelligence and the kindness in his eyes. Sure, his soul was tainted by demons, but so was Dean's, and neither had asked for such a fate.</p><p>And Sam had <em>prayed</em>. Every day. Heaven knew this, and Heaven ignored him. Could he really be blamed for choosing the wrong path when he had never been shown any other option?</p><p>It was all part of God's Plan, he had to remind himself. This was all meant to be.</p><p>And then there was Dean. Dean still cared, in spite of everything. He wouldn't be so angry right now if he didn't. And Castiel cared about Dean, so much, in fact, that it had become a problem, a mistake he wouldn't be foolish enough to make again. Still, something Dean loved so much couldn't be all bad, could it?</p><p>Dean prayed to him, loudly, as if he hadn't been there the whole time, unseen. The tug on his Grace was insistent and sharp. His words were needles pricking at his guilt, yet he wanted to drink them down and hold them somewhere safe inside him. Something that was Dean's but also his and that they couldn't take away from him.</p><p>He resisted the urge to make his presence known immediately. He didn't want to face Dean's disappointment again. He didn't want to convince him as Heaven ordered him to. He didn't want...</p><p><em>No.</em> He didn't want.</p><p>Castiel appeared several feet away. The physical distance between them shouldn't have mattered, but it did. It made a difference, however marginal. It was easier this way to imagine Dean as something small, insignificant and beneath him.</p><p>But his soul and the mark it bore could not shine any less bright.</p><p>"Well, it's about time!" Dean berated, his voice rasping painfully. "I've been screaming myself hoarse out here for about two and a half hours now."</p><p>"What do you want?" Castiel grumbled, moving towards him as slowly as he dared without his reluctance becoming obvious.</p><p>"Well, you can start with what the hell happened in Illinois."</p><p>An echo of pain resonated through Castiel's very being, and he pretended to be very interested in the scrapyard around them so that Dean wouldn't notice. "What do you mean?"</p><p>"Oh, cut the crap! You were gonna tell me something," Dean pressed.</p><p>"Nothing of import," he lied, unconvincing at best. And too soon, he was standing in front of Dean, who despite his limited human senses, seemed to be able to see right through Castiel.</p><p>"You got ass reamed in Heaven! But it was not of import?" he spat, and Castiel sensed the beginnings of a tirade that was bound to get them both in trouble.</p><p>"Dean," he pleaded, his stoicism breaking down. "I can't. I'm sorry." He watched as understanding dawned across Dean's face. Dean knew torture; it had carved into his very soul. The pitying look he gave Castiel forced him to turn away, putting distance between the two of them so he could once again compose himself.</p><p>"Get to the reason you really called me," he ordered gruffly, forcing a turn in the conversation. Dean didn't push. He knew better. Better than the angels. For that, Castiel was grateful. "It's about Sam, right?"</p><p>"Can he do it?" he asked after a moment. With his back turned to Dean, Castiel couldn't tell what he might have been thinking during the pause. "Kill Lilith? Stop the Apocalypse."</p><p>"Possibly, yes." Castiel fought to keep his voice even as he turned back around and continued lying. Whatever it took to secure Heaven's champion. It would all be worth it in the end. "But as you know, he'd have to take certain steps."</p><p>"Crank up the Hell blood regimen," Dean concluded.</p><p>"Consuming the amount of blood it would take to kill Lilith would change your brother forever." That was true, at least from a certain point of view, if Lucifer could convince his vessel to accept him immediately upon release. "Most likely, he would be the next creature that you would feel compelled to kill." At least according to Heaven's Plan.</p><p>"That'll never happen," Dean said, but his voice shook.</p><p>"How can you be so sure?" Castiel pried.</p><p>"Because he's my brother!" he snapped. Castiel only tilted his head to the side, uncomprehending. His brothers had killed each other over less. "I raised him. I <em>died</em> for him! I can't have all of that be for nothing."</p><p>He felt the urge to reach out again to Dean, who could hardly keep himself from shaking, and his next words burned his tongue. "There's no reason this would have to come to pass, Dean." <em>Lies.</em> He tried to smooth it over with softer assurances that still turned sour in his mouth. "You are worth more than what you've given up for Sam. We believe it's <em>you,</em> Dean, not your brother. The only question for us is whether you're willing to accept it. Stand up, and accept your role," he prompted. "You are the one who will stop it."</p><p>Dean regarded him warily. He wasn't stupid, not the way Heaven thought. He could tell when he was being manipulated, and Castiel could see how hurt he was that he was the one doing it. His expression hardened after a long moment. "If I do this, Sammy doesn't have to?"</p><p>Castiel's lies were spent. "If it gives you comfort to see it that way."</p><p>"You're a dick these days," Dean huffed, turning away. Castiel couldn't find it in him to defend himself. That was how Dean viewed all other angels, why should he be any different? Why did he <em>want</em> to be? "Fine. I'm in," Dean said after a deep, contemplative breath.</p><p>Castiel should have been happy, or if not happy, at the very least satisfied. But the words of the oath propelled mechanically from his mouth, their meaning deadened, dull, and would have been lost entirely on him if not for the impact they had on Dean, who looked very much like he wanted to punch him as he swore to obey God's orders as he had his own father's. Castiel knew what he thought of either of them, and while he was still out of his depth when it came to his understanding of human feelings, he knew that some part of Dean had to be breaking to make such a promise.</p><p>He looked at Dean's soul, as if to reassure himself that such a thing was not possible. It only made him feel worse.</p><p>Dean shook his head when it was all over and sighed. "I guess I'll go back inside and wait then."</p><p>"Get some rest," Castiel insisted. "You'll need it."</p><p>"You know, I'm making the choice to trust you, Cas."</p><p>"I'm aware. It would be wise of you to extend that faith to Heaven. For both our sakes," he added.</p><p>"No. I'm trusting <em>you</em>. Because somewhere beneath all that righteous crap they drilled into your head," Dean continued, blessedly ignoring Castiel's wince, "I think you know what the right path is. And because I'm your friend and I owe you, if you say this is what needs to be done, then I'll pretend I believe you and do it. That being said, is there anything else you would like to tell me, Cas?"</p><p>Castiel resisted the urge to fidget underneath Dean's gaze, the truth wanting to claw its way out of his throat. But he remembered the pain, and that was worse. "I thank you for your commitment to our service," was all he said. He flew away before he had the chance to fall apart again.</p><p>When he returned, Dean was sleeping. No nightmares this time, a blessing with what was to come. Castiel silently thanked his Father for small miracles before he moved on to create his own.</p><p>At least when he opened the panic room door, Sam's screaming stopped.</p><p>The silence was Hell.</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>Dean actually did punch him this time. He figured he probably deserved that. No, he definitely deserved that. And worse. He only wished that it had actually hurt.</p><p>His superiors had been right in stopping him before he could tell Dean the truth. His reaction here was evidence enough of that. If he had known before pledging allegiance, being backed into a corner, it was very likely the Plan would not come to pass.</p><p>"Try to understand," Castiel said placatingly, "this is long foretold. This is your-"</p><p>"Destiny?" Dean interrupted. "Don't give me that holy crap. Destiny? God's plan? It's all a bunch of lies, you poor stupid son of a bitch! It's just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep you in line!" Castiel winced. It wasn't that this was unexpected news, but the truth of it still stung, the idea that everything he had ever fought for was ultimately pointless.</p><p>No. He had to have <em>faith</em>.</p><p>Dean continued. "You know what's real? People. Families. That's real. And you're going to watch them all burn?"</p><p>"What is so worth saving?" Castiel asked, his voice rising in spite of himself. "I see <em>nothing</em> but pain here. The pain of living, of feeling lost." The pain ever present in the back of his mind, reminding him of what happens to those who stray too far from their sacred path. And as any creature in agony, he lashed out. "I see inside you. I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In paradise, all is forgiven. You'll be at <em>peace</em>." A flash of something, a memory lost, a sunlit smile, but he forced it away. "Even with Sam."</p><p>Dean was uncharacteristically silent, not once breaking eye contact with Castiel. Not for the first time, he couldn't help but wonder if Dean somehow saw inside him as well, if he could see the pain and the doubt he had to keep hidden away, even from his own brothers. Castiel found himself looking away, but Dean only shifted position so that he once again filled his vision. He felt too seen, too vulnerable, and every instinct screamed at him to fly away but he couldn't, not while pinned under Dean's stare.</p><p>"You can take your peace," Dean said, breaking the unbearable tension, "and shove it up your lily-white ass. Because I'll take the pain and the guilt. I'll even take Sam as is. It's a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in paradise! This is simple, Cas! No more crap about being a good soldier. There is a right, and there is a wrong here, and you know it."</p><p>Castiel tried to turn around, but Dean grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and spun him back to face him. He shouldn't have allowed it, should have let Dean injure himself again, so why didn't he? "Look at me!" he demanded. "You know it!"</p><p>"It's not that simple, Dean!" Castiel finally snapped. "You only think it is because you don't know."</p><p>"And whose fault is that?" he retorted. "You were gonna help me once, weren't you? You were gonna warn me about this before they dragged you back to Bible camp. Help me. Now. Please."</p><p>For all of Dean's hang ups about appearing weak, this seemed a lot like begging, and it shook Castiel more than he cared to admit. "What would you have me do?"</p><p>"Get me to Sam! We can stop this before it's too late."</p><p>"I do that, we will all be hunted. We'll all be killed!" Or worse. The thought set him trembling. He wasn't supposed to feel, but he was all too aware of his own fear. Fear of Falling. Fear of the pain.</p><p>"If there was anything worth dying for, this is it."</p><p>Of course Dean would think that. Dean thought his own life worthless. Thought that throwing it away at some misguided effort to save someone somehow gave it meaning. All because he loved, and what he loved he could not lose.</p><p>Castiel pictured Dean dying with him being powerless to stop it, and he realized he had a new fear.</p><p>He shook his head, and Dean turned his back on him and walked away, spitting curses and insults. "What do you care about dying? You're already dead. We're done."</p><p>This was for the best, he tried to remind himself. This way they all lived. This way the world got paradise.</p><p>He tried to imagine paradise for himself, and realized suddenly that he couldn't. He tried to remember what brought him peace, but only a hazy dream drifted through his mind before dissipating. He would live. Dean would live. But was that enough?</p><p>Dean's friendship, his laughter, his smile, his trust. It had brought Castiel closer to happiness than he had ever known, a feeling some humans spent their whole lives chasing, and just one of many that the angels forbid. But it was not something he was prepared to lose.</p><p>"Dean," Castiel began softly. He could fix this. He had to fix this. They had fought before. He just had to try and make him understand.</p><p>"We're done," Dean repeated, and the finality of the phrase echoed in the tiny room. What little was left of Castiel's resolve crumbled.</p><p>He was afraid of the pain, but he was more afraid of losing Dean.</p><p>He opened his mouth with the intent to make it right. He would tell Dean everything, and then they would run. They could fix this. It wasn't too late.</p><p>But before he could say anything, he found himself facing not an ornate, gilded room, but sterile white walls only interrupted by Naomi's stern presence.</p><p>"I must say," she began, "I've become quite accustomed to you popping in and out of my office over the centuries, but twice in one week? That has to be a new record."</p><p>"Naomi," he said, the name strange on his tongue but with a weight of familiarity he was only just now becoming aware of. "How many times have you been inside my head?"</p><p>She pursed her lips thoughtfully, but her expression soon settled back into a blank smile. "It doesn't really matter; most angels have been sent to me for corrections at least once or twice in their lifetimes. You, however, I've had to keep a close eye on. You're an excellent soldier, so long as you're operating within acceptable parameters, and your garrison is fond of you, so I let you leave after our sessions. Still, there's an air of defectiveness about you that I can never quite seem to erase."</p><p>"And what do you define as 'acceptable parameters?'"</p><p>"Following orders, of course. But then you've always had difficulty with that, haven't you?"</p><p>"I have been nothing but faithful!" he replied defensively.</p><p>Naomi's smile twisted into something else, something cruel. "Tell me, what do you remember of Sodom and Gomorrah? What of the flood? Of the plagues? The Crucifixion?"</p><p>Castiel racked his brain. He remembered all of these events; he'd been around since the dawn of time. He could picture each one clearly in his mind, the death and the destruction, but what he couldn't place was his role in all of them. He remembered them as clearly as if he'd been there, yet he couldn't remember if he actually had been.</p><p>"Each time you prayed for mercy that was not in our power to give," Naomi continued, "and each time you made a choice that would alter the hand of fate. We did not allow it, and you were brought here to me. We are not meant to make choices, Castiel. Free will is not in our nature."</p><p>"If it's not in our nature, then why have you been forced to 'correct' almost every one of us?" Castiel asked, and Naomi's face fell. "There are people down there," he continued. "Innocent men, women, and children who are going to die in this war."</p><p>Naomi rolled her eyes. "Oh please, Castiel, they are <em>humans</em>. They are contaminated from birth."</p><p>"That doesn't mean they don't deserve to live their lives!"</p><p>"What do you know about humanity? You only know one man!" she retorted.</p><p>"And one is enough," Castiel stated firmly. "Enough to know that in spite of their flaws and their horrors, humans are capable of far more kindness and compassion and joy than we ever will be. And maybe that's worth all of the suffering and the imperfections. Maybe the pain is worth it to know love."</p><p>"You betray God's Plan. You speak of blasphemy!" Naomi spat.</p><p>Castiel shook his head. "No. I speak the truth. We are meant to protect humanity, not bring about its end! We are meant to fight for them, not bend them to our will! How can we claim to be soldiers of our Lord when we cannot obey His number one command?"</p><p>"The will of Heaven is the will of God."</p><p>"I used to think so. But not anymore."</p><p>Naomi was shaking, the walls of her office distorting in her rage. "Sit down, Castiel. I will not ask a second time."</p><p>His reply was simple but carried the distinct weight of an irreversible choice being made. "No."</p><p>With an outraged cry, Naomi lunged for him, all pretense of order and calm shattering around them. They grappled for a long moment, Naomi's needle inching closer with every swipe, ready to unmake him. She was of a far superior rank to him and with that came unknowable strength, but she was not a soldier, had never fought on the front lines. In that, he had the advantage. One misstep was all it took, and he was able to turn the needle around on her, skewering it through her Grace.</p><p>Naomi made a strangled choking sound that thundered in Castiel's ears as it fully dawned on him what he had just done. Then, she exploded in a blinding burst of light that Castiel had to shield himself from, leaving nothing behind save the small scorch in the folds of time and space that marked the end of her existence.</p><p>"I'm sorry, sister," he said to the empty air once he had recovered from the shock.</p><p>The next order of business was to escape. He knew he was in Heaven, but wasn't sure exactly what part. He hurried out of the office, mindful of the fact that someone was bound to have noticed Naomi's demise by now.</p><p>He found himself in a long hall lined with prison cells. Each one of them was full, as Heaven was perfect in its planning and would never have too many or too little for the angels needing to be contained. He sifted through the voices and the Graces present until picking up on one that was all too familiar, and he swiftly followed it to the source.</p><p>"Anna," he breathed with relief upon seeing her standing behind the bars of her cell. She whirled on him upon hearing his voice. "What are you doing here?"</p><p>"You put me here, remember?" she snarled.</p><p>"I suppose an apology would not be sufficient?"</p><p>Anna narrowed her eyes. "It's a start."</p><p>"Well, I <em>am</em> sorry," he told her, drawing his blade. He levered it against the lock on her cell, and in one swift motion, snapped it off, freeing her.</p><p>"What are you doing?" she asked.</p><p>"I'm making a choice. I'm setting things right."</p><p>Anna continued to regard him warily even as she stepped out into the hall to join him. "If Naomi catches you..."</p><p>"Naomi's dead."</p><p>She stared at him in shock for a long moment before huffing a short laugh. "Good riddance. She was a bitch."</p><p>"Anna, I need to get back to Dean," he said urgently.</p><p>"I can show you the way, but they're not going to let you just walk back up to him. You need a distraction."</p><p>Castiel took note of the glee curling the edges of her Grace into the closest thing resembling a smile in a non-physical setting. "I'm assuming you have one in mind?" he asked, somewhat warily.</p><p>She glanced back over her shoulder, eyeing the cells stretching as far as either of them could perceive. "I have a few ideas."</p><p><br/>
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</p><p>He was <em>right</em>.</p><p>He hadn't been entirely sure, at first, especially not when Raphael was ripping him apart on an atomic level. That was the thing about doubt once you let it in, he supposed; it invaded every choice you made, regardless of whether you felt it was right or wrong. There was always that little voice in the back of your mind, asking, "What if?"</p><p>Heaven above, did humans really live like that all the time?</p><p>But none of that mattered now because he had been <em>right</em>. Why else would God have brought him back, if not for the fact that he approved of Castiel's actions?</p><p>Something was wrong, however, he realized almost immediately after suddenly reforming. Jimmy was gone, for one thing, even if he still inhabited his recreated body. That sort of thing happens when one is vaporized beyond even an angel's capability to heal. But beyond the absence of his vessel's soul, his mind was extraordinarily, stiflingly silent.</p><p>He couldn't hear his brothers anymore.</p><p>The realization sent him staggering, and he pressed a hand to his chest, as if to reassure himself that his Grace still burned just beneath the surface. It did, of course, but it too was different. Where before it had surged strong and steady like a blinding sun, it now danced unevenly like an open flame, flickering with even the slightest flex of his power. It wouldn't last, not forever. He wondered what would happen to him when it finally blew out.</p><p>He had well and truly Fallen.</p><p>He stamped down on the rising panic threatening to claw its way up his throat. There were more important problems that needed to be handled, such as finding Dean. With the Apocalypse now fully in motion, there were parts to Heaven's plan for him that he needed to know, that Castiel hadn't had the chance to tell him last time.</p><p>It seemed that he needn't have worried, as by the time he did reach Dean, curled on the floor at the mercy of Zachariah, he already knew. Also, he had suddenly developed a rather serious case of stomach cancer. And if he wasn't mistaken, poor Sam gasping in the corner had been completely deprived of his lungs.</p><p>It was really a wonder that the Winchesters had managed to survive this long without him.</p><p>He took care of the two guards, once again ignoring the whisper of doubt as he was forced to kill his own brethren in order to survive. Castiel was nothing if not dedicated to a cause, and right now, his cause was protecting the Winchesters. Zachariah was spared, only because of the fact that he was smart enough to flee when faced with what Castiel's return meant. He would be back, Castiel was sure; Heaven would eventually come up with some excuse why he should still be hunted down and eliminated. Again.</p><p>Soon, it was just him and the two Winchester boys left in the storage locker, but before he could even consider what he ought to say to them after all that had happened over the last few days, Dean had suddenly wrapped his arms around him. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to realize that this was a hug, that Dean "personal space" Winchester was hugging him. It both short-circuited his brain and set him at ease, and perhaps too soon, it was over. Castiel hadn't even had a chance to return the embrace before Dean clapped him on the back and stepped away.</p><p>"It's good to see you, man," Dean sighed in relief.</p><p>"And you as well," he returned automatically. "You seem...mostly unharmed."</p><p>The ghost of a smile crossed Dean's lips. "All things considered, I'd say we're doing pretty alright for ourselves." Sam looked like he wanted to protest that, which was fair, considering a moment ago he hadn't been able to breathe. "What about you?"</p><p>Castiel considered his reply for a moment. Explaining his diminished Grace and the unnerving silence in the back of his mind seemed like a lot to get into while standing in a storage facility in the middle of nowhere with angels on their trail, so he decided to leave that part out. "I am in one piece."</p><p>Sam nodded at this. "Good. Cuz you were kinda...everywhere...last we saw." Dean visibly shuddered at whatever memory this conjured up, and Castiel figured it was probably better not to ask.</p><p>"You two need to be more careful," he admonished.</p><p>"Yeah, I'm starting to get that," Dean huffed. "Your frat brothers are bigger dicks than I thought."</p><p>"I don't mean the angels. Lucifer is circling his vessel, and once he takes it, those hex bags won't be enough to protect you." Castiel stepped forward and pressed his hands against both brothers' chests, allowing his Grace to surge through his fingertips and do his bidding. He felt an uncomfortable tightness in his chest as it dimmed threateningly for a moment before returning to full strength as soon as he had finished. Well, not full strength. He could tell, however unnoticeable it seemed at the moment, that it was slowly but surely fading after each use.</p><p>The brothers doubled over in pain. "What the hell was that?" Dean gasped.</p><p>"An Enochian sigil," Castiel replied. "It'll hide you from every angel in creation, including Lucifer."</p><p>"What, did you just brand us with it?"</p><p>"No. I carved it into your ribs." And it was rather neat work, if he did say so himself.</p><p>Dean only gaped at him, so Sam spoke up next. There was concern in his voice, which was touching, considering they hadn't spoken much before now and usually in a negative context. "Hey Cas, were you really dead?" he asked.</p><p>"Yes." Castiel looked down, remembering all too well the agony of being torn apart molecule by molecule, in every possible dimensional plane until there was nothing. He didn't like thinking much about how he had died, or even the state in which he had returned. It raised so many questions, led to more doubt in his mind than he could ever recall processing. Trying to focus only on the fact that at least he was alive was really all he could do at the moment to keep himself sane.</p><p>That was until Dean followed up with, "Then how are you back?"</p><p>He opened his mouth, realized he didn't have much of a satisfactory answer beyond his own suspicions, and flew off in a panic before either of them could ask any more questions.</p><p>Of course, he realized immediately after that that was actually the worst possible thing he could have done. He landed abruptly in the middle of a cornfield, remembering that with the sigils in place, he wasn't able to keep track of their whereabouts, not even through his connection to Dean. Without the voices in his head and the usually ever present link to Dean's soul, Castiel felt more alone than ever. He needed to fly back, as embarrassing as it would be. They probably hadn't left the storage facility yet.</p><p>He never got the chance before a rustling in the stalks alerted him to another presence. A man emerged, but beyond his human face, Castiel recognized the familiar glow of his brother's Grace. "Balthazar," he acknowledged. He slipped out his sword warily. "They sent you to kill me?"</p><p>"Good to see you too, Cassie," he greeted. "And no, not exactly."</p><p>"Hello, Castiel," a voice said behind him, and he whirled around, prepared to strike, only to find Anna smiling up at him.</p><p>Castiel sighed with relief and lowered his blade. "Anna, I'm glad you made it out alive."</p><p>"I had some help," she admitted. More movement sounded around them, and a few other angels stepped out in the open, while others, he could tell, remained watching warily from the shadows.</p><p>"Who are they?" he asked, once again tightening his grip on his blade, not that it would make much of a difference if he really was in any danger. He was vastly outnumbered, his powers limited.</p><p>"Friends from the dungeon, as well as recent converts to our cause."</p><p>"Our cause?"</p><p>"Stopping the Apocalypse," Anna clarified. "We two aren't the only ones to question the orders we were given. Some didn't even have the chance."</p><p>A man beside her nodded. "I was placed in Heaven's dungeon for a mistake that led to humanity's suffering. All I ever wanted was an opportunity to make it right, but I was never allowed."</p><p>Castiel squinted at his Grace, trying to place where he recognized it from. "Gadreel?" he realized at last. "Guardian of Eden? The one who allowed the serpent into the garden?"</p><p>Gadreel hung his head in shame. "I was tricked," he confessed. "And for that I was tortured by Naomi for millennia. You killed her and thus helped set me free, and for that I will gladly fight beside you. If you'll have me."</p><p>"Fight?" Castiel furrowed his brow and turned back to Anna. "You mean to start a war in Heaven?"</p><p>"It's the only way," Anna said, too calm about all of this for his own liking. "The archangels are busy preparing for Lucifer's rise, the rest with battling demons. We strike now, and they'll never see it coming. We win, we can put a stop to all of this, save humanity."</p><p>"At the cost of our brothers and sisters." He turned to address the other eyes watching them. "At the cost of your lives? I made my choice; I am gone. I would not wish the same fate upon any of you."</p><p>A woman standing just in view piped up, Hannah, if he remembered correctly. "Is it true that God brought you back?"</p><p>"I...believe so. Yes," he answered hesitantly.</p><p>Something akin to wonder sparked in her eyes. "Then, surely, He must approve of your actions. As angels, it is our job to follow the will of God. This is not a matter of choice, but of duty."</p><p>"You don't understand. I cannot fight with you," he protested. "I cannot return to Heaven. My Grace, something is wrong with it."</p><p>Anna stepped forward and pressed her palm to his chest. She concentrated for a second, then lifted her eyes to him pityingly. "You've Fallen," she said. "You're like me."</p><p>"So you understand why this is foolish."</p><p>"Perhaps." She moved back to rejoin her place at the head of the rebellious angels. "But we can at least keep Heaven off your back while you're at work here on earth."</p><p>"And what do you propose I do down here? I've already concealed the Winchesters," Castiel pointed out.</p><p>Anna only shrugged. "Why not ask God? He clearly favors you."</p><p>"How am I supposed to do that?" he asked. "He may have brought me back, but no one has actually seen or heard from him in millennia."</p><p>"I might have an idea," said Balthazar, speaking up again for the first time since he appeared. "But I don't think your boyfriend will like it."</p><p>Castiel narrowed his eyes in confusion. "My boyfriend?"</p><p>"He means Dean," Anna supplied, rolling her eyes.</p><p>"Yes, he happens to be in possession of a very rare amulet said to burn bright in God's presence. Ugly little thing. You must have noticed it," Balthazar explained.</p><p>"I know it."</p><p>"What are you going to do if you find Him?" Anna asked.</p><p>"<em>When</em> I find Him," Castiel corrected, "I'm going to ask him to fix this. He's the only one powerful enough to stop it. He must have some stake in all of this, or else He wouldn't have brought me back."</p><p>Anna looked like she had other ideas but chose to keep her mouth shut. "In the meantime, we'll fight," she said instead of what was actually running through her head.</p><p>"I love it when a plan comes together. Don't you?" Balthazar said, rubbing his hands together conspiratorially.</p><p>"What is your part in all of this, Balthazar?" Castiel asked. "Not to sound ungrateful, but I've never known you to commit so readily to, well, anything." Balthazar had been his closest brother for many years, but they had never quite seen eye-to-eye on just about anything; they were, quite literally, on different wavelengths. Sure, he obeyed orders like any other angel, but he had never focused himself fully on his work, always choosing to drift through it before returning to whatever pleasurable state he had been in prior.</p><p>"I was bored," Balthazar answered with a shrug.</p><p>Anna shook her head with a fond smile. "You can't hear it, but he's actually here for you. He cares about you Castiel, as do we all." Looking back at Balthazar, he could see nothing but nonchalance, but he suspected what Anna said was true, at least about him. "And don't worry," she continued, "there are back doors to tapping into Angel Radio. I'll teach you how."</p><p>There was a mischievous twist to her grin and a wildness to her eyes that Castiel couldn't remember being there before the dungeon, and he couldn't help but worry about it moving forward.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>As Balthazar predicted, Dean was not exactly thrilled with Castiel's plan to find God.</p><p>"Listen, Chuckles, even if there <em>is</em> a God, He is either dead, and that's the generous theory-"</p><p>"He is out there, Dean," Castiel insisted.</p><p>"Or He's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us," Dean continued. Inwardly, Castiel seethed. He was familiar with righteous fury, but whatever anger Dean was stirring up burned hotter in his chest, blurred his vision. He didn't like this feeling; it felt dangerous. "I mean look around you, man. The world is in the toilet! We are literally at the end of days here, and He's off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut! Alright?"</p><p>"Enough!" Castiel snapped. "This is not a theological issue; it's strategic. With God's help, we can win."</p><p>Dean had the audacity to roll his eyes. "It's a pipe dream, Cas."</p><p>Castiel balled his fists at his sides in order to keep them still as he advanced on Dean, feeling all of the doubt and all of the anger pounding away inside him, scrabbling for release. "I killed three angels this week, my <em>family</em>. I'm hunted. I rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for <em>you</em>," Castiel hissed through his teeth, struggling to keep his voice from rising. Dean swallowed, his face falling, but he held his ground. "And you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world. And I lost everything. For nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself."</p><p>"Would you two like to get a room?" Bobby sneered from his corner, glancing back and forth between the mere inches between Castiel and Dean. Granted, the man was having a very bad day, having lost the use of his legs and all, but that didn't stop Castiel from turning his glare on Bobby and very nearly losing his tenuous control over these horrible emotions he was never meant to feel.</p><p>Dean also glared at Bobby but still placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder to break the tension in the room. "Cas, could I talk to you outside?" he asked, tugging gently without giving him the chance to reply. Castiel briefly considered standing firm just to spite him, but in the end he allowed himself to be led out into the hallway.</p><p>They closed the door behind them just as Sam turned to Bobby, snapping, "What the hell, man?" Whatever justification the man gave was muffled and covered by the noise of nurses passing by and voices calling over the intercom.</p><p>He expected Dean to start yelling at him again, to demean his intelligence and his Father in a thousand other ways, but instead, the first words out of his mouth were, "Are you okay?" There was a pause, as Castiel was too stunned to answer. "I mean, really? I know a lot has happened since-"</p><p>"No," Castiel answered firmly. "But why should you care?"</p><p>"Because I do." Dean leveled his gaze at him, and Castiel could see the sincerity behind his eyes. "Listen, man, it's just that...I've done the whole 'searching for a deadbeat dad' bit before, and it's not worth it. The only thing you're gonna find at the end of that road is disappointment."</p><p>"What else would you have me do?"</p><p>"Stick with us," he replied immediately. "Help us kill Lucifer."</p><p>"Dean..." Castiel groaned.</p><p>"I'm serious. He's an angel, right? Angels still bleed. So he <em>can</em> be killed." Dean smiled, somewhat unconvincingly. He knew this plan was a longshot, at best. "Please, Cas. We need you."</p><p>Castiel entertained the idea. Truth be told, wandering off by himself with no brothers and no friends to guide him and no guarantee what he would find was sounding less and less appealing. But he realized that he hadn't lost everything, as he'd said before, and if Dean's plan failed, he would. He needed something else to cling to, to reassure himself that everything would be alright. "Dean, I need to do this," he sighed at last.</p><p>To his surprise, Dean nodded in understanding. "I know. Now, what do you need from me?"</p><p>Castiel's breath left him in one quick burst, and he blinked at Dean wondrously. "Dean, I-"</p><p>Dean held up a hand. "Don't make it weird. It's like I said before; I get it. Do what you gotta do."</p><p>Castiel swallowed his thanks and fought the urge to smile in order to keep Dean from getting uncomfortable. "Your pendant," he answered, getting straight back down to business.</p><p>Immediately, Dean's mood shifted back to sullen. "What? No!"</p><p>"It's an amulet that can be used to track God," Castiel explained.</p><p>"And who told you that load of bullshit?"</p><p>"Balthazar. An angel." Before Dean could comment on that, he added, "He's on our side, and he's very knowledgeable when it comes to holy artifacts. I trust him."</p><p>"Yeah, well, trusting people hasn't gone so well for us in the past," Dean protested.</p><p>"Dean!" Castiel snapped. He was deflecting again. "Please, I'll take good care of it. I know it means a lot to you."</p><p>Dean took a deep breath and cast a glance at the door to Bobby's hospital room where he and Sam still waited for them, his expression unreadable. "You know what? Fine," he sad after a long moment, removing the cord from around his neck. He started to lower it into Castiel's waiting hand, but retracted at the last second, leveling him with a hard stare. "Just don't lose it."</p><p>Castiel nodded solemnly as Dean pressed the amulet into his palm. "You have my word." He started to turn and leave, but Dean's fingers, still lingering just over his, tightened almost imperceptibly, stopping him.</p><p>"Be careful, alright?" he said urgently, his voiced hushed low for Castiel alone to hear. Castiel tilted his head in confusion; he'd already promised to keep the amulet safe. "No, I mean, don't go dying on me again. And I guess if you ever need to talk about whatever it is you find out there, you have me, you know? Us. Sam and I. Probably Bobby too, if he ever..."</p><p>"Thank you, Dean," Castiel said, putting a stop to his rambling.</p><p>Dean nodded gratefully, and pulled his hand back to rub around his neck. "Well, now I just feel naked," he chuckled, changing the subject. "I guess I better head back in there. Good luck."</p><p>"To you as well." He stayed only long enough to watch Dean disappear behind the door, then took off.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Castiel started his search wide, poking his head into different dimensional planes, apart from Heaven and Hell, for obvious reasons. This took quite a toll on his Grace, however, so he decided it was probably best to focus his wanderings on plain old Earth, after popping up on all the other planets and moons in the solar system, of course. Besides, if God truly valued humanity as His greatest creation, it stood to reason that He would remain near them.</p><p>He traveled to various places of worship, churches, temples, statues, and even holy ground, places where humans had felt His divine light, but the pendant remained plain and cold in his hands. If God was not in places where they sung His praises, He could be just about anywhere, just watching, observing, waiting.</p><p>Tired for the first time in his life from flying all over the globe, Castiel stopped to sit in a small church pew and rest. There were few other people around, most with their heads bowed in prayer who had not even noticed his sudden appearance. He was not foolish enough to try and pray. It was far more likely that the angels would intercept before it ever had a chance of reaching God.</p><p>Still, he bowed his head to at least look the part, gazing down at the amulet he rolled around in his hands, as if imprinting its shape into the lines of his palms would give him some other clue or sign. It stayed frustratingly mysterious, the only glow coming from the rainbow reflection of the light streaming through the stained glass windows.</p><p>It struck him very suddenly that he missed its owner, that he missed Dean. He'd grown so accustomed to knowing where exactly Dean was whenever Castiel was on earth that the absence of their bond felt almost like the loss of a limb.</p><p>To ease some of his loneliness, he tried the trick that Anna taught him to listen in on the other angels without them becoming aware of his presence. He couldn't hear everything like before, and a lot of it came through almost staticky and garbled, but he was able to latch onto more important information. Nothing about God's whereabouts, of course, since most either didn't know he was gone or didn't count on him coming back, but at least every so often, he was able to get word on how the war in Heaven was going. Usually, it was not good, but he preferred it to having absolutely no idea while sitting on the sidelines.</p><p>Instead of news from the front, however, he heard of an interesting development here on earth. Raphael had taken a vessel to quell a skirmish in a small town in America, the kind of place the Winchesters usually loved to investigate. If anyone could give him information on his quest to find their Father, it would be an archangel, and if anyone could help him get that information, it would be Dean.</p><p>He started his flight immediately, only to remember about halfway there that he, once again, had no idea where Dean actually was. He swiftly redirected his course to South Dakota, where he found Bobby Singer buried in about three stacks of books on Apocalypse lore. He had barely landed before he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Bobby narrowed his glare when he realized who had spontaneously appeared in his living room, but he lowered the weapon all the same. "Would it kill you to knock?" he grumbled.</p><p>"Apologies."</p><p>"Stuff it." With some difficulty, Bobby wheeled himself out from behind his worktable. Castiel masked the pang of pity that shot through him at the sight, and his hands itched to be able to help. "Out with it. What do you need? I know you didn't just pop in to say 'hello.'"</p><p>"I'm trying to find Dean. I need his help for a...case," Castiel told him, finally settling on the appropriate word for his mission.</p><p>"You're in luck. He just called me after finishing off a vamp nest." Bobby travelled over to the kitchen, where he first ripped a sticky note off the wall that had been hanging next to an assortment of labeled phones. Then, he rifled through one of the cabinets before pulling out a beat up cellphone. He handed both to Castiel. "You'll find him at this address, and have him teach you how to set up a phone while you're at it. Can't guarantee that I won't shoot next time."</p><p>"I'll keep that in mind." Castiel eyed the door, wondering if it would be more proper to walk out before he flew to Dean.</p><p>Bobby noticed his hesitation and waved him off like an irritating fly. "Just go already."</p><p>He took off, manifesting just a second later behind Dean, who was scrubbing blood off of his jacket in a motel sink. He'd forgotten to take into account Dean's preferences when landing, however, and ended up only inches away from him. Dean looked up from his task, saw Cas staring at him in the mirror, and jumped. "Gah! Don't do that!" he snapped.</p><p>"Hello, Dean," he greeted, perhaps a bit later than he should have.</p><p>Dean turned around, took notice of how close they were, and pointedly looked away. "Cas, we talked about this. Personal space?" He glanced back at Castiel, almost challengingly, but still made no move to step back.</p><p>"My apologies," Castiel said for the second time that day, and he obligingly put some distance between the two of them. Dean blinked several times and exhaled. Castiel hadn't realized he had been holding his breath.</p><p>Dean grabbed his jacket and moved to stuff it inside his duffle bag, rubbing his chest as he went as if it was still sore. "How'd you find me? I thought I was flying below the angel radar."</p><p>"You are. Bobby told me where you were." Castiel then took in the room, empty save for the two of them. He glanced left and right, even stuck his head into the bathroom, but they were alone. "Where's Sam?"</p><p>Dean went very quiet for a moment, keeping his eyes trained downward as he shrugged into a different, clean jacket. "Me and Sam are taking separate vacations for a while," he answered while adjusting his collar. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. "So, did you find God yet? More important, can I have my damn necklace back please?"</p><p>"No, I haven't found Him. That's why I'm here. I need your help."</p><p>Dean wrinkled his nose as he rolled up his sleeves. Whatever had happened between him and Sam, the mere mention of it seemed to have put him in a foul mood. "With what? God hunt? Not interested," he sneered.</p><p>Castiel reined in his patience and the urge to roll his eyes. "It's not God. It's someone else," he explained.</p><p>"Who?"</p><p>"Archangel," Castiel replied. "The one who killed me."</p><p>"Excuse me?"</p><p>"His name is Raphael."</p><p>Dean raised his eyebrows, looking off to the side as if he were trying to figure out if this was some sort of joke. "You were wasted by a Teenage Mutant Ninja Angel?" he asked, his mouth curling into a teasing grin.</p><p>Castiel did not dare dignify that with a response, mostly because he had no idea what Dean was referring to. "I've heard whispers," he continued, "that he's walking the earth. This is a rare opportunity."</p><p>"For what? Revenge?" Dean interjected.</p><p>"Information."</p><p>Dean rolled his eyes and walked back to the sink to begin wiping clean one of his knives. "So what? You think you can find this dude and he's just gonna spill God's address?"</p><p>"Yes," Castiel answered simply. "Because we are going to trap him and interrogate him."</p><p>"You're serious about this?"</p><p>"Yes," he repeated.</p><p>"So, what, I'm Thelma and you're Louise and we're just gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together?" Dean turned back to him with a smirk. Once again, Castiel knew nothing save for the fact that he was missing something, and he could only narrow his eyes in confusion. Dean sighed and let his face drop. "Give me one good reason why I should do this."</p><p>For whatever reason, Castiel did not want to admit that he simply desired Dean's company, that he was more than a little afraid to face down his much more powerful big brother, so he came up with an excuse. "Because you're Michael's vessel, and no angel would dare harm you." It wasn't a lie, at least, so it was a passable explanation.</p><p>Dean wasn't too thrilled with his answer. "Oh, so I'm your bullet shield."</p><p>With some difficulty, Castiel pursed his lips and swallowed down his pride. "I need your help," he confessed slowly. "Because you are the only one who will help me. Please."</p><p>Castiel waited, holding his breath as Dean searched his face carefully. It stung a bit, that there was still a lot of trust to be mended between them, but he supposed it was understandable. Finally, he offered up a smile. "Alright. Fine. Where is he?"</p><p>"Maine," Castiel said, trying not to let the relief show in his voice. "Let's go." He held up two fingers and raised them to Dean's forehead, but he abruptly flinched away.</p><p>"Whoa! Whoa!" Dean warned, and Castiel opened his palm placatingly.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Last time you zapped me someplace, I didn't poop for a week!" he complained. "We're driving."</p><p>In ten minutes, they cleared the room, checked out of the motel, and climbed into the Impala, Castiel taking up the shotgun position. He fidgeted in his seat as they pulled out of the parking lot. The car rumbled loudly and shook and didn't feel at all as reliable as his wings, and he felt even more constricted than usual in the metal confines of the interior. After a couple of minutes, he figured out how to roll down his window, and the rush of air made things a little more bearable.</p><p>Dean, meanwhile rifled through a box on the dash full of meticulously organized cassette tapes until he found the one he apparently wanted. He held it up to Castiel, as if he would have any understanding of its meaning. "You cool with this? Or are you gonna bitch about my music like Sam?" he asked.</p><p>"Play whatever you like," Castiel said, shrugging. At least one of them ought to enjoy the ride.</p><p>Dean cracked a half smile as he loaded the tape into the player. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."</p><p>Seeking more distraction from the roaring of the engine and every little shake he felt along the road, Castiel made an attempt at conversation. "Why are you and Sam separated?" he wondered.</p><p>The mood almost immediately soured. Dean, who had been content to mouth along to the words of the song, suddenly went very still, his eyes focusing almost too intently on the road ahead. "I couldn't trust him. Not after everything," he admitted. "And it was too dangerous to work together with me constantly looking over my shoulder to make sure he hasn't suddenly fallen off the wagon. Sam agreed, said he needed time to get his head straight."</p><p>"Do you know where he is?" Castiel felt a little guilty for prying, but losing track of Sam wasn't exactly helpful to their situation.</p><p>"I have his number; he has mine. If there's an issue, he'll call." Dean sounded like he was trying too hard to be certain of that fact. "Until then, it's not like I haven't been on my own before. I can handle things just fine without him."</p><p>"But you miss him," Castiel inferred.</p><p>"Of course I miss him!" Dean scoffed, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "He's my brother. But sometimes..." Dean shook his head. "Sometimes I regret dragging him back into this life, you know? I could have just left him there at Stanford, let him get his law degree, marry Jessica. She seemed nice.</p><p>"But I got scared," Dean sighed. "It's my fault. Dad was missing, and I needed him or I thought I was gonna fall apart. He got involved in my shit all over again, and the rest is history."</p><p>Castiel felt a twinge of guilt. Was he not doing the same thing, dragging Dean into his own family's mess? He supposed it was a little late to be sorry for it now. "It's not your fault," he tried to assure Dean. "Azazel would have come for him eventually. I think it might have been worse if you weren't there."</p><p>"Maybe. So you think that was another destiny thing?" he said, half-joking.</p><p>"Maybe," Castiel responded in kind.</p><p>Dean chuckled, returning to smiling fondly as a memory surfaced. "You should have seen him that first year. He was such a little shit; it was honestly a miracle we didn't kill each other. He complained so much about wanting to find Dad and get back to Stanford and everything, which, in hindsight, was completely fair, but he would also be the one to run headfirst into whatever monster we were hunting. 'Let's get on the demon possessed plane' or 'I'm gonna summon Bloody Mary.' The kid was crazy. Once, he got so sick of it all that he just got out of the car in the middle of nowhere and started walking. He came back, thank God, but it was a wild few days."</p><p>Dean went on to describe more of their antics from their life on the road, and Castiel was surprised to find himself enraptured by the stories. He knew all of this already; all of Heaven had kept their eyes on the brothers growing up, but the way Dean told the events, often hyperbolically, occasionally incorrectly, was so colored with love that it was captivating. He couldn't help but wonder whose version was more correct. Heaven's? Who always saw the child with demon blood? Or Dean's? Who only saw his baby brother?</p><p>Castiel couldn't imagine describing any of his brothers the way Dean did Sam. Maybe Balthazar, but he would certainly make fun of him for it. And for all his millennia, he didn't have anything like the tales of tears and laughter, of patching up skinned knees or sneaking out after dark.</p><p>"You really love your brother," Castiel remarked at the end of it all.</p><p>"Well, yeah. Obviously." He rolled his eyes, but Castiel could see his face going pink at the admission. Dean wasn't one to gush.</p><p>"And that's why you wear the necklace? The one he gave you?" He pulled the pendant out from the inner pocket of his coat, where he'd kept it safe all this time.</p><p>"Yeah, I guess so," Dean answered, and Castiel smiled down at the amulet, happy to have finally understood something. "I wear it, and I remember no matter how much I've fucked up, I at least did something right in raising that kid, even if he gets on my nerves all the time. And I think, at least I like to think, that maybe he sees me still wearing it and knows that no matter how much we've fought, I still care about him."</p><p>Castiel grinned wondrously at Dean. He couldn't help it. As horribly gruff and obnoxious as he tended to be, there were moments like these that reminded Castiel why he Fell in the first place, why it was all worth it. Dean glanced over, noticed this, and cleared his throat awkwardly. "What about you?" he asked, changing the subject.</p><p>"What about me?"</p><p>"Your brothers. That one you mentioned, Balthazar, you said he was on our side. Why didn't you go to him for help?" Dean elaborated.</p><p>"Balthazar's busy," Castiel explained, shaking his head. "There's a war on in Heaven."</p><p>"I'm sorry, what?"</p><p>It suddenly occurred to Castiel that he hadn't told the Winchesters anything that had happened with Heaven post his escape from Naomi. "I freed Anna from Heaven's dungeon; granted, it was the least I could do, since I'm the one who put her there. She recruited other angels who thought as we do, that humanity deserves to be protected. They are waging an insurrection against Michael and Raphael's forces."</p><p>"Huh," Dean said, a little stunned. "I guess not <em>all</em> angels are dicks."</p><p>"I guess not," Castiel agreed.</p><p>"So why aren't you up there? Was finding God all that important?"</p><p>"I Fell, Dean. I cannot return to Heaven, or I will die," he answered.</p><p>Dean furrowed his brow. "But didn't Anna Fall too?"</p><p>"Anna has always been stronger than I am. Without my connection to Heaven, my Grace is fading." Castiel pressed a hand to his chest once again, feeling it thrumming beneath his heartbeat to once again steady himself.</p><p>Dean stared at him, hard, and Castiel wanted to yell at him to look at the road. "How long do you have?"</p><p>"I don't know."</p><p>"What happens when it runs out?"</p><p>"I don't know."</p><p>"Cas!"</p><p>"Dean!"</p><p>Dean ran a hand down his face and exhaled slowly. Castiel winced. The last thing he had wanted was to put more stress on Dean. "I'm sorry, man," he said after a long moment. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around all of this. I just...I'm sorry."</p><p>"What are you apologizing for?"</p><p>"If I hadn't-"</p><p>"Dean, this is not your fault," Castiel interrupted.</p><p>"How can you say that? I mean, look at yourself!" Dean gestured toward him, but Castiel could see nothing wrong with his current physical appearance. "You're a fallen angel riding in the front seat of a forty year old car all because I threw a fit about flying."</p><p>"And I still could have grabbed you against your will if I really wanted to," he reminded Dean. "Falling was my <em>choice</em>. And given the option, I'd like to think I'd choose it again."</p><p>Dean made a noncommittal grunt, and Castiel got the feeling that he didn't quite believe him. "So, what, you'd rather be here than fighting the good fight up in Heaven?"</p><p>"At the moment, yes." And it was the truth. While he worried about his brothers, while the car was cramped and loud and not his preferred method of travel, there was no one else he would rather be driving with towards his probable demise than Dean.</p><p>"Well, then," Dean said, seemingly at a loss for words. "It's a long drive. Hope you like Led Zeppelin." He reached forward to turn up the music so that it deafened any further conversation, but Castiel could still hear him singing along with abandon.</p><p>All in all, he supposed the drive wasn't all too unpleasant. There was a cool breeze on his face, sun warmed leather at his back, and Dean trying to teach him the lyrics to <em>Ramble On</em> with gentle nudges along the way.</p><p>A pit stop, an awkward encounter with law enforcement, and a short trip to Jerusalem later, they were setting their trap for Raphael in the abandoned house they had chosen to squat in for the next day or so.</p><p>"Do we have any chance of surviving this?" Dean finally asked outright after trying to wrap his head around the monumental task ahead of them.</p><p>"You do," Castiel told him bluntly.</p><p>"So odds are you're a dead man tomorrow," he concluded.</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Wow." Dean paced the floor slowly, considering. Castiel's eyes followed him, transfixed. "Well, last night on earth. What, uh, what are your plans?" Dean looked at him expectantly, but Castiel wasn't quite sure what kind of answer he might be fishing for.</p><p>"I just thought I'd sit here quietly," Castiel answered, settling into his chair.</p><p>Dean scoffed, "Dude, come on. Anything? Hmm? Booze? Women?" Castiel eyed him anxiously and fidgeted. Of course that was where Dean's mind went. "You have been with a woman before, right? Or a guy? An angel at least?"</p><p>Castiel awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, feeling uncomfortably warm beneath his collar. "Dean, those are my siblings," he protested.</p><p>Dean nodded at this, then grinned in a way that Castiel knew spelled trouble. "Alright," he said with purpose, marching back over to the table to look Castiel in the eyes. "Let me tell you something, there are two things that I know for certain. One: Bert and Ernie are gay. Two: You are <em>not</em> gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch."</p><p>Castiel eyed him curiously. "Are you..." he began slowly, the sound of his heartbeat suddenly very loud in his ears. "Are you offering?"</p><p>He immediately regretted asking, as for a moment, Dean somehow looked more flustered than Castiel felt. He recovered quickly, though, and slapped on a cheeky smile. "Wow, Cas, at least buy me dinner first," he teased with a wink. "But seriously, no. Let's go." Dean grabbed his coat off the back of the chair and threw it on before hauling Castiel to his feet and out the door.</p><p><br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
</p><p>Nothing had gone according to plan. Not interrogating Raphael. And certainly not Dean's attempts to get him laid.</p><p>So now they had to race through a biblical storm, buffeted by hurricane force winds and rain pelting them like bullets, all to race to the Impala and flee the house where they left Raphael trapped in a ring of holy fire. For now, at least. He hoped that this endeavor had at least given Anna's forces some opportunity while Raphael was distracted with him.</p><p>He and Dean at last dove into either side of the car, dripping puddles onto the upholstery. Dean, of all things, was laughing, likely from the sheer amount of adrenaline. "Next time I get to choose the near death experience," he joked.</p><p>"Dean!" Castiel snapped, unamused.</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"Drive."</p><p>Dean nodded, settling down. "Good idea." The Impala roared to life, but the engine was almost completely drowned out by the sound of the rain against the car.</p><p>"Man, you okay?" Dean asked once they had made good headway, however slowly, through the storm. Castiel didn't answer, as he figured it was pretty obvious that out of all things, the one thing he was <em>not</em> was 'okay.' "Look, I'll be the first to tell you that this little crusade of yours is nuts, but I do know a little something about missing fathers."</p><p>"What do you mean?" Dean had offered to talk about this any time back at the hospital. Apparently that time was now.</p><p>"I mean there were times when I was looking for my dad when all logic said that he was dead. But I knew, in my heart, that he was still alive. Who cares what some Ninja Turtle says, Cas? What do you believe?" Dean glanced over at him as much as he was safely able as he continued to try and navigate the near flooded roads.</p><p>"I believe He's out there," Castiel answered. He wouldn't allow Raphael's insistence on the alternative shake him. <em>Someone</em> had brought him back, after all.</p><p>"Good," Dean said with a nod. "Then go find him."</p><p>"What about you?"</p><p>"About me?" Castiel watched as Dean barely managed to cover his surprise at his concern with his usual smirk. "I don't know. Honestly, I'm good. I can't believe I'm saying that, but I am. I'm really good."</p><p>Dean seemed to believe it, but Castiel could not bring himself to, so he needled, trying to push down Dean's walls. Trying to get him to ask him to stay. "Even without your brother?"</p><p>"Especially without my brother," Dean replied, his voice taking on a hard edge. "Man, I spent so much time worrying about the son of a bitch. I mean, I've had more fun with you in the past twenty-four hours than I've had with Sam in years. And you're not that much fun." He grinned at Castiel, who could only furrow his brow deeper in concern. All this time he'd spent worrying about mending his own broken trust with Dean, he hadn't given much thought to what had broken between him and his brother. It was unsettling, to say the least, and he rested his hand nervously on the amulet in his pocket.</p><p>"It's funny," Dean continued. "I've been so chained to my family. But now that I'm alone, hell, I'm happy."</p><p>Lies, Castiel realized. But not for him, for Dean himself. To cover up how lonely he really felt, to hide how vulnerable he had been just a few days prior, to push someone away before they could hurt him again. Dean looked over at Cas and found that he hadn't flown off yet. "Cas? You're still here," he remarked.</p><p>"I think I'll stay for a bit. Figure out my next move," he decided firmly.</p><p>Dean opened his mouth, apparently to protest, only for the Impala to hit a particularly deep pool of water on the uneven road and be sent skidding for several seconds. Castiel realized he was shaking once Dean regained control of the vehicle and was seriously starting to reconsider his choice. "Shit!" Dean swore, thumping a hand on the steering wheel. "That's it!"</p><p>He scanned the side of the road before turning off onto a dead end gravel side street partially concealed by the trees. "There's no way I'm risking my baby any more in this weather. We stay here until it blows over," he explained gruffly.</p><p>Castiel was about to mention that it was unlikely his brother would let up in his rage anytime soon, but he was cut off by Dean nearly kicking him in the head in his attempts to scramble over the top of the seats and falling into the back. By the time he looked back to gather what was going on, Dean had already peeled off his soaked shirt and jacket. "What are you doing?" he asked.</p><p>"If we're going to be stuck here for the night, I at least want to change into something more comfortable," Dean replied, struggling to wriggle out of his wet jeans in the cramped backseat.</p><p>Castiel watched him twist in likely uncomfortable angles as he fought the fabric. "Do you require any assistance?"</p><p>Dean smirked. "Love the enthusiasm, Cas, but no thanks." As if to prove his point, he finally managed to kick himself free. He spared an odd look at Castiel as he ducked down to rifle through his duffle. "Wait, why aren't you soaked?"</p><p>Castiel glanced down at his conspicuously dry attire. He must have cleaned himself up unconsciously. Months of maintaining a human appearance had made such small miracles second nature to him. "I'm an angel," he responded dumbly.</p><p>"You mean to tell me that you could have magicked me dry this whole time?" Castiel nodded. "And you waited until <em>after</em> I already stripped down to my underwear to mention this? Perv." There was no anger in his tone, however, only exasperated fondness.</p><p>"I could dry you off now," Castiel offered, holding up a hand.</p><p>Dean rolled his eyes. "Nah, don't waste your Grace." He continued sifting through his bag until he removed a dry pair of sweatpants and started pulling them on.</p><p>"If it makes you feel better, I could step outside and give you some privacy." Without waiting for Dean's reply, he unlatched the Impala door. The rain intensified in volume for a moment as he opened it just an inch, the indirect spray already dampening the cuff of his sleeve.</p><p>He didn't make it any further before Dean practically launched himself halfway over the seat, colliding with Castiel's back while grabbing his wrist, and forced him to slam the door shut. Dean heaved a sigh of relief, releasing his grip on Castiel but somehow sinking further against him. "No, man, you don't have to...what would that even accomplish anyway? Then we'd both be all wet."</p><p>"Well, at least we would be suffering together," he joked, deadpan.</p><p>Dean laughed, the sound reverberating through Castiel from where Dean's chest was pressed up against his back. "You're so weird," he said, hoisting himself up and situating himself back in the backseat, where he finished dressing with a clean t-shirt. Castiel rolled his shoulders, now free of Dean's weight, but there was a lingering warmth from his skin that he thought he shouldn't have noticed through his layers, yet he did.</p><p>Dean picked up his duffel and patted it down in the seat for a makeshift pillow. "I'm going to catch a few hours while we wait. You," he pointed warningly at Castiel, "are not going to watch me sleep."</p><p>Even so, Castiel watched as he settled down to rest, shifting around to make himself comfortable in the cold leather and cramped space. "Here," he said, shrugging of his trench coat and offering it to Dean. "To keep you warm."</p><p>He had expected Dean to refuse outright, but instead, his hand closed over the fabric. "What about you?"</p><p>"I do not feel cold as much as you do," Castiel explained.</p><p>Dean nodded and took the coat, draping it over himself. He fiddled with the lapel between his fingers for a moment before muttering, "You're really staying, then?"</p><p>"I said that I would."</p><p>"Yeah, but what about your search for God? Isn't that a little more important than..." He gestured vaguely to their surroundings.</p><p>"God left me. You did not," he answered simply. "I've waited eons to meet him. I do not think a few more days can hurt."</p><p>"Okay." There was the tiniest break in Dean's voice. "Goodnight, I guess. Just lie down and stare at the ceiling or whatever." Dean rolled over so that he was no longer looking at Castiel, and Castiel did what he was told, stretching out across the front seat and lacing his fingers together to rest comfortably over his chest.</p><p>For a long time, neither of them spoke, and Castiel wondered if Dean had already fallen asleep. Then, he heard a small breathy noise, a laugh, barely audible over the rain beating against the Impala's roof. "What is it?" he asked.</p><p>"Sorry. Just thinking about the look on Raphael's face when you called him your little bitch," Dean answered, and Castiel could hear the smile in his voice. "Not gonna lie, that was pretty hot. Where was that attitude with, uh, what was her name...Chastity, huh?"</p><p>Castiel furrowed his brow. "Are you saying I should have called <em>her</em> a little bitch?" he asked incredulously.</p><p>"Well, no," Dean explained a little awkwardly, "unless she was into that sort of thing."</p><p>Castiel considered this. "Are you?"</p><p>"I'm going to elect not to answer that." Dean cleared his throat inelegantly. "What I mean to say is, you know, confidance, that take-charge attitude, it's a good look. On you."</p><p>"Oh." He wasn't sure what else to say to that, or even if it was possible to say anything else with how tight his throat felt. He had to be imagining it, how the temperature in the confined space suddenly spiked, how it felt like every nerve in his body was working overdrive and he could feel and hear everything far more keenly than what he initially thought human bodies were capable of.</p><p>"Hey, Cas?" Dean started, and there was something new and very raw about the way he said his name that sent a jolt through Castiel's body like electricity.</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"What would you have said if I <em>was</em> offering?"</p><p>Castiel was grateful for the darkness and for the seats in between them for hiding his immediate reaction. After burying his shock and embarrassment and intrigue and even more embarrassment at the intrigue, he thought hard over his answer. "Well," he replied, swallowing his nerves, "I'd say you'd at least have to buy me dinner first."</p><p>Dean snorted something vaguely amused but unintelligible, and Castiel heard him shift again in the backseat before going completely silent. Castiel spent the rest of the night allowing the sound of the rain to drown out his heart hammering against his ribs.</p>
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